IRLF 


B    3    11D 


I  \ 


GIFT  OF 
TOO?.  r0RD  BACON 


ROSES  AND  MYRTLES. 


BY 

SARAH   JERUSIIA   CORNWALL. 


NEW   YORK: 
D.   APPLETON  AND   COMPANY, 

1,  3,  AND  5  BOND  STREET. 

1881. 


COPY  EIGHT   BY 

SARAH  JERUSHA  CORNWALL. 

1881. 


TO 

MY  FATHER 

AND 

MY  SISTER  ANNA. 


269551 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Invocation              ....  11 

Sylvan  Pictures            .  13 

Give  Me  Leave  to  Love     .  33 

The  Willows    .  .34 

Questions  .....  36 

The  Fruitless  Chase     .             .                         .  .37 

My  Love    ...  39 

Sweet  May-Flowers      .             .  40 

Young  Maids  in  May          .                         .  41 

The  Poet  and  the  Clouds                      .  ,42 

Memories  ....  44 

New-Year's  Eve  and  Morn       .  .45 

What  is  Love         .                         .  47 

The  Broken  Heart        ...  ,51 

Tree  and  River       ...  52 

Under  the  Snow           ...  53 

Pensive  Dreaming              .  54 


(j  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Sweet  Violet    ...  ,56 

Lullaby      .                                       .  57 

A  Decade         ....  .            .     58 

The  Bard   .                                       .  59 

Breath  of  the  Morning              .             .             .  .             .61 

Edith  before  the  Looking-Glass     ...  63 

Gentle  Annie  Day        .                         .  .            .     64 

The  Morning-Glory             ...  65 

Thrice-Tried     .  .07 

Sonnet       ....  08 

Isabel               .            .            .             .            .  .             .09 

Welcome    ....  71 

The  Soldier's  Babe      ...  .73 

Acceptance             ....  .78 

Spring  Token  ....  79 

Elfin  Lay   ......  .80 

A  Similitude    .             .            .             .             .  .             .81 

Aphorisms              .....  83 

To  a  Parrot      .             .             .             .             .  .             .83 

Love           .......  85 

Once  I  Loved   .....  .86 

Lily                        ....  87 

Weary  Years  Ago        ...  .88 


CONTENTS.  7 

PAGE 

A  Sweet  Little  Bird           ....  90 

Love  Priceless             .             .             .             .             .  .92 

The  Broker's  Song           .             .             .             .             ,  93 

Buds  and  Blossoms    .             .             .             .             .  ,94 

The  Daisy             .                         ....  97 

Bliss  ........       98 

To  Chloe  .......  99 

A  Lament       .             .             .             .            .            .  .99 

Lines  to .             .                         .  100 

Pussy                           ...  .     101 

Fate         .                         ....  103 

The  Blind  Grandfather           .             .             .             .  .104 

Marriage  Bells     ......  109 

A  Dream        .             .             .             .             .             .  ,111 

Mirth  and  Wine                .             .             .             .             .  n-j 

Wondrous  Witching               .             .             .             .  .113 

Spring-Time  is  Coming    .             .             .             .             .  115 

Little  White  Violet    .            .            .            .  .116 

Heart-Pain            ....  118 

To  Anna         .             .             .             .  119 

Ask  Me  Not         ....  120 

Poets              .            .             .             .            .            .  .121 

Song.     Fly,  Maiden          .  123 


CONTENTS. 


PACE 


She  Loves  Me  Not      ...  124 

Nothing  and  Nobody        ...  125 

Merry  Christmas  Morning      ...  126 

The  Bridal  Eve    ...  127 

Mildred           .            .            .  190 

Distant  Music      ...  131 

Woe  .  ,o« 

loo 

The  Lost  Bird      .             .             .  123 

A  Conceit      .....  137 

Forty  Times         ...  13g 

On  Receiving  a  Nosegay  from  My  Lady-Love  .             .139 

A  Riddle               ....  140 

Bertie             ....  142 

Woo  the  Muse     ....  144 

Soliloquy        .......     145 

Song.     Oh  !  Look  into  My  Heart,  Love  .  148 

Passing  Strange          .             .             .             .  .             .149 

Willie      .  ]4y 

Cupid  as  a  Fortune-Teller      .            .             .  .             .151 

Summer  Hours     ....  152 

The  Fire-Fly                             .                          .  m 

To  Eva,  on  Hearing  of  Her  Betrothal      .  156 

Dancing          ....  158 


CONTENTS.  9 

PAGE 

Along  the  River  .            .             .            .  .             .158 

Life  and  Love  ......     160 

Song.     My  Heart  is  all  one  Dream  of  Love  .             .            101 

The  Despairing           .             .             .             .  .             .162 

Resignation          .             .             .             .  .             .            165 

Cradle  Song   .             .            .             .             .  .             .166 

My  Children.     Reading  from  one  Book  .             .           168 

The  Rose       ....  .     169 

Art  Thou  Happy  Lacking  Me      .             .  .                        171 

Phebe             .            .            .            .            .  .             .173 

Prescription          .             .             .             .  .             .176 

Lines  in  an  Album     .             .             .             .  .             .176 

Lilies  of  the  Valley          ....  177 

Baby              .                        .            .            .  .178 

Agur's  Prayer.     Neither  Poverty  nor  Riches  .             .            179 

Doom              .....  .181 

Lines  to  _            ,  with  a  Rose  .             .            183 

Trial.     A  Vision        .  1S4 

Meditation            ...  187 

Longing                      .             .             .             .  .188 

Hymn.     Lift  up  My  Eyes             .             .  .             .           189 

God  Our  Judge           .  .190 

Wishing  .  193 


1  (  )  CONTENTS. 


Hymn.     Only  to  Pray  .  .  .  .  .194 

Supplication         .  ...  I'.Ml 

Hymn.     Hasten  to  the  Temple  ....     IDS 

Hymn.     Jesus  Our  Risen  Saviour  .  .     ,         .  I'M) 

To  .....     201 

To  Some  Friends  who  Hi-quested  My  Likeness    .  202 


INVOCATION. 

Come,  gentle  Muses,  teach  me  how  to  write  ; 
Gladly  Fll  join  you  in  your  airy  flight, 
Whether  you  lead  me  far  o'er  boundless  seas, 
Or  waft  me  heavenward  on  the  evening  breeze  ; 
Pll  range  with  you  the  starry  realms  of  light 
And  learn  sweet  wisdom  from  the  quiet  night. 


ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


SYLVAN  PICTURES. 

DOWN  trickling,  o'er  the  mossy  rock, 
The  silent,  ceaseless,  crystal  drops 
Glide  and  glisten,  glimmer  and  glance, 
Then  mingle  together,  clear  and  cool, 
A  grateful  draught,  in  the  shallow  bowl, 
Which,  flowing,  they  have  wrought ; 
Therein  to  linger  a  moment  brief, 
And  offer  the  traveler  sweet  relief. 

Drink,  weary  traveler,  drink,  and  slake 
Thy  burning  thirst  in  the  tiny  lake ; 


14  ROSES   AND    MYRTLES. 

Repose  tliee  in  the  cheerful  shade, 
By  rustling  oak  and  chestnut  made. 
This  shady,  sunny,  flowery  vale 
Recalls  to  memory  a  tale 
Of  lovers  in  a  by-gone  day. 

Not  such  the  vale  where  they  met  at  eve, 

When  from  toil  the  workman  wins  reprieve ; 

The  stream,  which  takes  in  yon  spring  its  source, 

Increases  ever  in  size  and  force, 

As  it  ripples  along  through  the  vine-clad  bowers, 

Or  leaps  in  the  meadows  gay  with  flowers, 

Till  it  flows  in  the  valley  broad  and  deep ; 

On  its  bosom  the  water-lilies  sleep, 

The  beech  and  willow  wave  above, 

In  their  branches  the  zephyrs  whisper  love, 

And  the  wild  bird  nestles  warm  and  light, 

While  her  proud  mate  warbles  a  soft  good  night, 

To  the  cadence  low  of  the  ruining  breeze, 

In  the  topmost  boughs  of  the  lofty  trees. 


SYLVAN   PICTURES.  15 

When  the  twilight  cometh,  and  over  all, 

Its  balmy  benedictions  fall, 

The  lowing  cattle,  homeward  bound, 

To  quench  their  thirst  come  herding  round, 

And  the  parting  sun  glows  warm  to  greet 

The  fair,  pale  moon,  in  her  distance  sweet, 

As  a  gracious  princess,  born  to  be 

Worshiped  afar  on  bended  knee. 

At  evening,  her  snowy  banners  furled, 
The  moon  looked  down  on  a  smiling  world, 
And  no  fairer  sight  could  she  there  behold, 
Than  a  youthful  pair  who  loverly  strolled 
Along  the  banks  of  the  gliding  stream, 
Beneath  her  own  bright,  tender  gleam, 
Led  by  the  queen  of  the  silver  night 
To  a  wonderful  sense  of  soft  delight, 
Until,  with  shy  agreement  blest, 
The  lover  to  his  manly  breast 
Folded  his  love  and,  lowly  bowed, 


16  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Undying  truth  to  the  maiden  vowed, 
Who  yielded  her  lips  to  his  ardent  kiss, 
In  a  rapturous  foretaste  of  future  bliss, 
While  the  moon  behind  a  cloud  withdrew. 
And  a  shadow  over  the  lovers  threw. 

O  blissful,  sweet  and  wondrous  hour, 
When  youthful  lovers  feel  the  power 
To  soar  above  the  ills  of  earth, 
And  live  in  dreams  of  heavenly  birth ! 
Alas,  the  evil  fate  that  blights 
The  freshness  of  such  pure  delights ! 
Oh  !  why  should  filial  duty  lend 
Its  holy  power  to  such  an  end  ? 

The  gentle  maiden  of  my  tale, 
Whom,  to  this  hour,  the  loves  bewrail? 
Turned  sadly  from  her  lover's  hand, 
Obedient  to  a  stern  command. 
Her  father's  lips  the  mandate  spoke, 


SYLVAN    PICTURES.  17 

Which  love's  divine  betrothal  broke, 
Thenceforth,  her  glowing  visions  flown, 
She  dwelt  amid  her  mates  alone. 


O  fathers  !  stay  the  cruel  blow, 
Which  lays  a  daughter's  spirit  low, 
Better,  with  love,  a  troubled  lot, 
Than  velvet  ease,  where  love  is  not, 

Oli !  why  do  blight  and  cruel  fate 
Ever  on  glowing  beauty  wait  ? 
Why  droops  the  flower 
At  opening  hour  ? 
Wherefore,  do  lovers  part  ? 
Why  breaks  the  guileless  heart  ? 
Why  lays  the  maid  her  head 
Down  in  the  narrow  bed, 
Beneath  the  sod, 

The  clay-cold  clod  ? 
2 


18  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

But  why,  O  pleasant,  flowery  vale, 
Recall  to  mind  so  sad  a  tale. 
And  memories  of  pale  despair 
Intrude  upon  the  peaceful  air  ? 

The  flickering,  fleeting,  changing  shade, 
By  oak  and  waving  chestnut  made, 
Has  filled  my  soul  with  plaintive  thought. 
With  tender  memories  inwrought. 
Anon,  upon  my  spirit's  dream 
There  flits  a  happier,  gayer  theme. 

See  where  beside  a  limpid  stream, 
On  which  the  mirrored  sunbeams  gleam, 
A  maiden  sits,  with  gaze  intent ; 
Her  eye  on  yonder  scene  is  bent, 
Her  book  neglected  on  her  knee  ; 
She  does  not  hear  nor  does  she  see 
A  stranger  youth,  who,  riding  by, 
Cries ;  Beauteous  vision,  which  my  eye 


SYLVAN   PICTURES.  19 

Beholds  with  exquisite  delight, 

Thou  living  dream  of  beauty  bright, 

Say,  does  that  lovely  form  enshrine 

A  spirit  human,  or  divine  ? 

If  mortal  maiden  thou  art  found, 

I've  sought  for  th.ee,  the  wide  world  round  ; 

I  will  thy  name  and  home  discover, 

And  vow  myself  thy  faithful  lover, 

To  distant  lands  I  must  depart, 

Short  time  have  I  to  win  thy  heart, 

May  Cupid  speed  the  wooing ! 

One  moon  has  waxed  and  waned  apace  ; 
Behold  the  maid,  with  timid  grace, 
Exchanging  vows  of  love  and  truth, 
At  Hymen's  altar,  with  the  youth, 
Who,  soft  in  speech,  and  brave  at  heart, 
Had  sought  the  aid  of  Cupid's  dart, 
To  win  the  maiden  for  his  bride, 
Who  clingeth  closely  at  his  side, 


20  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

While  starting  on  the  untried  life, 
Opened  before  the  new-made  wife. 
Repentance  never  will  divide 
The  nuptial  knot  so  quickly  tied  ; 

For  Cupid  sped  the  wooing. 


O  shady,  sunny,  flowery  vale, 

Your  flickering  lights  inspire  my  tale, 

While  down  the  mossy  rock 

Swiftly  the  crystal  drops 

Glide  and  glisten,  glimmer  and  glance, 

Then  mingle  together,  clear  and  cool, 

A  grateful  draught  in  the  shallow  bowl, 

Which,  flowing,  they  have  wrought. 

Far  in  a  wild,  romantic  dell, 
A  sister  spring  doth  meekly  dwell, 
All  rudely  circled  round  with  stones, 
And  fashioned  to  a  well. 


SYLVAN    PICTURES.  21 

Springing  in  silence  from  the  earth, 

As  conscious  of  intrinsic  worth, 

Nor  vainly  seeking  to  allure, 

But  offering  a  treasure  pure, 

It  gently  overflows, 

And  softly  onward  goes, 

And  spreading  all  around, 

Upon  the  sloping  ground, 

Lo,  wheresoever  it  flows, 

The  violet  freely  grows  ; 

Violets  here  and  violets  there, 

Violets  blooming  everywhere, 

Violets  of  true-love  blue, 

Violets  of  deeper  hue  ; 

Countless  numbers  o'er  the  mead, 

Blooming  without  stint  or  heed, 

While  here  and  there  are  traces  seen 

Of  footways  winding  through  the  green. 

For  far  and  near  this  fountain  cold 
Is  famed  for  virtues  manifold ; 


'22  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

And  many  a  drooping  form  forlorn 
Conies  trembling,  in  the  dewy  morn, 
To  quaff,  in  water  from  the  spring, 
Strength  for  life's  weary  wandering ; 
And  maidens,  blooming,  bright, 
Maidens  with  glowing  eyes, 
And  healthful  cheeks,  bediglit 
With  nature's  richest  dyes, 
Come  tripping  to  the  well, 
To  try  its  magic  spell ; 
For  mystic,  hidden  good 
Is  in  the  welling  flood. 

The  maid  who  shall  be  first 
The  chains  of  night  to  burst, 
Who,  earliest  at  the  spring, 
The  webs  aside  shall  fling, 
And  who,  with  rosy  lips, 
The  pearly  draught  first  sips, 
Shall  all  the  graces  win, 


SYLVAN    PICTURES.  23 

Which,  hidden,  are  therein  ; 
A  beauty,  blooming,  bright, 
Eyes  warm  with  loving  light, 
An  eager,  active  mind, 
A  faithful  heart  and  kind  ; 
And  lastly,  for  one  week. 
Shall  find  whate'er  she  seek. 
This  the  tradition  old, 
Which  neighboring;  maidens  hold. 

C"^  c5 

If  lovers  here  should  meet, 
Before  they  speak  to  greet 
Each  other,  they  must  drink 
Together,  from  the  brink. 

If,  in  the  pride  of  youth, 
The  pride  of  love  and  truth, 
They  slight  the  magic  spell, 
Once  laid  upon  this  well, 
Enchantment  weird  of  old, 


24  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Misfortunes  manifold, 
The  strokes  of  angry  fate, 
Upon  their  love  shall  wait. 

If,  at  the  fountain  side, 
A  lover  find  his  bride, 
And,  hungering,  he  sips 
The  nectar  of  her  lips, 
Before,  as  would  beseem, 
He  kiss  the  magic  stream, 
With  dismal,  dreary  pall, 
Change  and  disaster  fall 
Upon  the  happy  dream, 
Which  lovers  changeless  deem, 
WJiile,  in  the  quiet  dell, 
Eternally  doth  swell 
The  silent-springing  well. 

Near  by,  but  hidden  by  a  wood, 
Long  since,  a  lonely  farm-house  stood  •, 


SYLVAN   PICTURES.  25 

Vine-covered  to  the  eaves 

And  draped  with  shining  leaves ; 

The  rose,  the  eglantine, 

And  honey-suckle  vine, 

All  lovingly  entwined, 

And  gracefully  combined. 

The  garden  spoke  of  skill 

And  earnest,  patient  will, 

While  orchards,  meadows,  cornfields  green, 

With  crimson  hues  and  golden  sheen, 

Far-spreading  round  the  homestead  old, 

Of  plenteous,  garnered  harvest  told. 

What  bounteous  goddess,  fairy  queen, 

Inspired  that  lovely,  rural  scene  ? 

The  farmer's  daughter,  fair  and  neat, 

Ordered  and  ruled  the  sweet  retreat. 

No  longer  young,  no  longer  gay, 

But  peaceful  as  the  calmest  day, 

Year  after  year,  her  gentle  hand 

Swayed  all  around  with  mild  command. 


ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Better  than  goddess,  crowned  was  she 
With  womanly  benignity. 
From  whence  that  gentleness  divine, 
That  loving  smile,  that  look  benign  ? 
Alas  !  not  all  a  flowing  stream 
Of  peace,  a  glowing,  happy  dream, 
The  maiden's  life  ;  her  memory  held 
A  nook  where  sad  reminders  dwelled  ; 
And  often,  at  the  purple  hour, 
She  sat  within  a  rustic  bower, 
Of  vines  and  willow  withes  inwrought, 
And  mused  with  tender,  wishful  thought, 
Of  one  whom  well  she  knew  in  youth, 
( )ne  oft  remembered  now  with  ruth, 
Of  one  who  then  with  her  had  trod, 
The  violet-dotted,  dewy  sod, 
The  woodland  leading  from  the  well— 
The  magic,  mystic,  fateful  well- 
Urging  that  they  should  cleave 
United  to  each  other ; 


SYLVAN    PICTURES.  27 

While  she  refused  to  leave 

Her  father  and  her  mother ; 

Their  youngest,  dearest  comfort  she  ; 

Left  lone  by  her  they  ne'er  should  be. 

Then,  forth  upon  a  rugged  world, 
In  dreary  disappointment  hurled, 
The  man,  of  stern  and  stubborn  mold, 
With  love  forbidden  to  unfold, 
Thwarted  and  vexed  by  adverse  fate, 
Eager  to  win,  but  forced  to  wait, 
With  heart  repressed,  with  stormful  soul, 
Rushed,  fiercely  seeking  Fortune's  goal ; 
Overwhelming,  crushing,  seizing  all 
That  haply  in  his  grasp  might  fall, 
To  sate  his  hungry,  selfish  greed, 
His  eager  lust  for  wealth  to  feed  ; 
All  heedless  of  a  neighbor's  pain, 
Conducing  to  his  sordid  gain  ; 
Yet  longing  for  the  joys  of  life, 
Despite  the  toil— despite  the  strife. 


28  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

The  race  for  fickle  Fortune  run, 
The  goal  attained,  her  favors  won, 
With  store  of  pelf  to  call  his  own, 
Yet  sad,  despairing  and  alone, 
By  magic,  love's  resistless  might, 
Drawn  in  the  silent  hours  of  night, 
He  longs,  he  hopes,  he  dreams,  he  sighs ; 
Before  his  fancy  visions  rise  ; 
Eemembered  day-dreams,  lost  but  sweet ; 
He  seeks,  at  length,  the  calm  retreat, 
Where,  in  the  lonely  willow  bower, 
At  lang  syne  even's  trysting  hour, 
The  maiden,  with  her  faithful  heart, 
Keeps  vigil  of  her  love  apart, 
Till,  darkening  o'er  her  spirit's  light, 
As  dusky  twilight  ushers  night, 
The  shade  of  buried  feeling  creeps, 
And  memory,  faithful,  brooding,  weeps. 

Oh  !  weep  no  longer,  gentle  bride  ; 
Henceforward,  ever,  side  by  side 


SYLVAN    PICTUEES.  29 

With  him  for  whom  thy  heart  has  yearned, 
Thy  bridegroom,  lover,  home  returned, 
At  lang  syne  even's  trysting  hour, 
Thou'lt  linger  in  the  rustic  bower, 
While  softly,  sweetly,  nesting  nigh, 
The  mother  birds  sing  lullaby. 

O  glorious,  golden,  sunset  hour ! 

No  longer  lonely  willow  bower. 

O  life  of  sweet  satiety 

And  ever-new  variety ! 

O  shady,  sunny,  flowery  vale ! 

Whose  flickering  lights  inspire  my  tale, 

Those  lives,  long  parted,  sundered  wide, 

Now  flowing  in  one  blended  tide, 

Have  called  to  mind  a  distant  scene, 

Where,  swelling  through  the  mosses  green, 

High  on  a  craggy  mountain  height, 

Two  springs  leap  gayly  into  sight, 

Two  lusty  streamlets,  purling  brooks, 


30  ROSES  AXD   MYRTLES. 

With  waterfalls  and  sudden  crooks  ; 
From  rock  to  rock  they  briskly  slide, 
And  murmur  gayly,  side  by  side, 
With  many  a  frolic  twist  and  freak, 
Till,  parted  by  a  rugged  peak, 
And  seeking  freer  scope, 
One  down  a  gentle  slope, 
Pursues  her  tranquil  course, 
Moving  with  quiet  force, 
While  countless  blessings  lie 
Around  her,  passing  by. 
She  feeds  the  waving  reeds, 
Supplies  the  lily's  needs, 
Bedews  the  creeping  vine, 
Revives  the  browsing  kine, 
While,  as  she  onward  flows, 
And  deep  her  channel  grows, 
Her  widening  basin  fills, 
From  tributary  rills. 


SYLVAN   PICTURES.  31 

The  other  nimble  mountain  spring, 
Stopped  rudely  in  meandering, 
And  headlong  plunged,  with  frantic  leaps, 
Ad  own  a  thousand  jagged  steeps, 

Crashing,  dashing, 

Foaming,  splashing, 

Down  whirling  from  the  mountain's  height, 
A  torrent  of  resistless  might, 
On  through  the  rocky  channel  speeds, 
Nor  obstacle  nor  dalliance  heeds, 
Till,  captured  by  a  master  will, 
'Tis  forced  to  turn  the  busy  mill, 
Then  through  the  wide-spread  plain  it  winds, 
And  there  its  sister  streamlet  finds. 
Two  noble  rivers,  deep  and  fleet, 
They  meet,  and  mingling  as  they  meet, 
There  in  the  valley's  space, 
With  broad  and  placid  face, 
A  lake  of  goodly  size, 
The  blended  water  lies  ; 


32  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Now  commingled,  one  forever, 
Deeply  flowing,  silent,  strong, 

On  its  trusty  bosom  ever, 
Safely  floats  its  charge  along. 

0  shady,  sunny,  flowery  vale, 

Your  flickering  lights  grow  dim  and  fail, 
While  evening  spreads  her  dusky  veil ; 
No  longer  on  my  fancy's  wing 
Your  lights  and  shadows  beauty  fling, 
And  wanton  gayly  while  I  sing ; 
As  home  I  wend,  at  closing  day, 
Along  the  flower-scented  way, 

1  linger  in  the  twilight  gray ; 

Again,  my  muse,  your  brightness  shows, 
And  in  the  dark  with  beauty  glows. 


GIVE   ME   LEAVE   TO   LOVE.  33 


GIVE  ME  LEAVE  TO  LOVE. 

OH  !  to  lay,  for  life,  for  death, 

Mj  head  upon  thy  faithful  breast ; 
There  to  draw  my  latest  breath, 

Where  I  have  found  my  life-long  rest ! 
I  pray  thee,  give  me  leave  to  love ; 
And  never  will  my  fancy  rove. 

Oh  !  to  taste  the  purest  bliss, 

Which  life  to  mortal  man  can  give ; 
To  know  the  rapture  of  thy  kiss, 
My  own  so  long  as  both  shall  live. 
I  pray  thee,  give  me  leave  to  love  ; 
And  never  will  my  fancy  rove. 

Oh  !  to  hold  within  my  arms 

A  very  heaven  of  pure  delight ; 
3 


34:  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

To  know  thy  love,  with  all  its  charms, 
My  own  by  dearest,  surest  right. 
I  pray  thee,  give  me  leave  to  love  ; 
And  never  will  my  fancy  rove. 


THE  WILLOWS. 

DIP — dip — the  weeping  willows, 
Dip — dip — in  the  tiny  billows  ; 
The  placid  lake  is  broad  and  clear, 
Its  depths  a  starry  heaven  appear, 
While  dip — dip — the  weeping  willows, 
Dip — dip — in  the  tiny  billows. 

Urged  onward  by  a  wild  despair, 
With  hurried  step  and  frantic  air, 
A  mortal  seeks  the  lonely  shore- 
Yet  but  one  step  and  all  is  o'er ; 


THE   WILLOWS.  35 

Hark  !  he  hears  the  weeping  willows, 
Dip — dip — in  the  tiny  billows. 

He  casts  a  look  in  the  starry  deep, 

One  look  ere  he  takes  the  fatal  leap ; 

Shall  a  mirrored  Heaven  be  the  door 

Of  a  burning  Hell  f orevermore  ? 

He  lifts  his  eyes  to  the  shining  dome  ; 

He  lifts  his  thoughts  to  that  happy  home, 

Which  the  Father  prepareth  for  such  as  he ; — 

He  sinks  to  earth  on  bended  knee, 

Crying,  "  God  be  merciful  unto  me  "  ; — 

And  God,  who  loveth  a  broken  heart, 

Comfort  and  healing  doth  impart ; 

While  dip — dip — the  weeping  willows, 

Dip — dip — in  the  tiny  billows. 


36  EOSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


QUESTIONS. 

ASK  a  maiden  of  the  fancies, 

IJnawakened  yet,  which  sleep 
In  her  heart,  which  lightly  dances, 

While  its  bounding  pulses  leap  ; 
Question  of  their  merry  glances, 

Eyes  which  have  not  learned  to  weep. 

Ask  a  lover  of  the  burnings 

Through,  his  throbbing  heart  which  surge  ; 
Ask  him  of  the  countless  yearnings 

Which  his  brain  to  madness  urge, 
In  their  fruitless,  vain  returnings, 

Driving  him  unto  its  verge. 

Ask  a  mother  why  it  bringeth 
To  her  bosom  such  a  glow, 


THE   FRUITLESS  CHASE,  37 

When  her  little  baby  clingeth 
To  her  breast  as  pure  as  snow, 

While  sweet  lullabys  she  singeth, 
Tender  soothings,  soft  and  low. 


THE  FRUITLESS   CHASE. 

BENEATH  the  red  sun's  burning  rays, 
On  one  of  August's  fiery  days, 
Through  devious,  dusty,  winding  way 
I  chased  a  butterfly. 

Returning  from  the  fruitless  chase, 
With  fever  kindling  on  my  face, 
I  sadly  mourned  my  foolish  race, 
To  win  a  butterfly. 


38  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Long  on  my  restless  bed  I  tossed ; 
The  prize  which  had  so  dearly  cost, 
For  which  my  health  I  rashly  lost, 
Only  a  butterfly. 

Such,  cried  I,  is  the  fate  of  those, 
Who,  lured  by  dazzling  gauds  and  shows, 
Will  follow,  wheresoe'er  she  goes, 
A  giddy  butterfly. 

Winding  about  in  crooked  ways, 
Delusive  paths  of  folly's  maze, 
Through  fevered  nights  and  weary  days, 
They  chase  a  butterfly. 

They  lose  their  strength  and  length  of  years  ; 
Amid  remorse  and  bitter  tears, 
The  tempting  prize  at  length  appears 
Only  a  butterfly. 


MY   LOVE.  39 

MY   LOVE. 

No  queenly  beauty  is  my  love, 

With  jeweled  coronet ; 
My  love  is  like  the  cooing  dove, 

Or  fragrant  mignonette. 

Content  to  nestle  at  my  side, 

A  trusting,  loving  wife  ; 
No  vain  desire  of  power,  no  pride, 

Disturbs  her  peaceful  life. 

And  like  the  unpretending  flower, 

With  qualities  most  meet 
Her  gentle  graces  fill  my  bower 

With  pleasures  pure  and  sweet. 

My  winsome  love,  so  fair  and  gay, 
With  dove-like  charms  and  wiles, 

Can  steal  oppressive  cares  away, 
And  win  my  heart  to  smiles. 


40  ROSES   AND  MYRTLES. 

SWEET   MAY-FLOWERS. 

SWEET  May-flowers  are  bonny, 
They  hide  themselves  away  ; 

I  went,  one  day,  with  Johnny 
To  seek  the  flowers  of  May. 

The  May-flowers  were  bonny, 
When,  light  of  heart  and  gay, 

I  wandered  far  with  Johnny 
Along  the  woodland  way. 

Sweet  May-flowers  are  bonny ; 

A  merry,  blithesome  day, 
Was  that  I  spent  with  Johnny 

In  seeking  flowers  of  May. 

Sweet  May-flowers  are  bonny, 
All  hidden  snug  away ; 

I'll  go  again  with  Johnny 
To  find  the  flowers  of  May. 


YOUNG  MAIDS  IN   MAY.  41 


YOUNG  MAIDS  IN  MAY. 

YOUNG  maids  in  May 
Go  singing  on  their  way ; 
Ah  !  one  might  pass  a  day 
With  fair  young  maids  in  May, 

Who  sing,  "  Sweet  May-flowers  are  bonny  "  ; 

Heigh-ho  !     Young  maids  are  bonny . 

Young  maids  in  May 
Go  singing  all  the  day  ; 
To  bliss  they  lead  the  way. 
Those  fair  young  maids  in  May, 

Who  sing,  "  Sweet  May-flowers  are  bonny  "  ; 

Heigh-ho  !     Young  maids  are  bonny. 

Young  maids  in  May, 

All  blooming,  blithe  and  gay  ; 


42  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

All !  one  might  learn  the  way 
From  fair  young  maids  in  May, 

Who  sing,  "  Sweet  May-flowers  are  bonny  "  ; 

Heigh-ho  !     Young  maids  are  bonny. 

Young  maids  in  May 
Go  singing  on  their  way ; 
Ah  !  one  might  go  astray 
With  fair  young  maids  in  May, 

Who  sing,  "  Sweet  May-flowers  are  bonny  "  ; 

Heigh-ho !     Young  maids  are  bonny. 


THE  POET  AND   THE  CLOUDS. 


POET. 


YE  glorious  clouds,  whence  come  ye,  whither  tend, 
Dread  thunder  portents  of  majestic  mien  '{ 


THE   POET   AND   THE   CLOUDS.  43 

A  marshalled  army  from  the  skies  ye  speed  ; 
Sharp  flashes  lightning  on  your  frowning  front ; 
Your  thunders  roar ;  earth  trembles  at  their  sound. 

The  contest  o'er,  the  conquered  earth  subdued, 
Swift  ye  return  upon  your  airy  space  ; 
Children  of  heaven,  again  the  skies  ye  seek. 

Tenant  of  earth,  I  breathe  a  sordid  air, 
Your  state  I  envy,  and  your  lofty  sphere. 


CLOUDS. 

Kay,  child  of  man,  thy  words,  of  folly  breathe ; 
Thou  reckest  naught  of  nature's  subtilty. 

From  earth  first  sprung,  the  earth  our  final  goal, 
A  brief,  bright  hour  we  hold  a  noble  state, 
Then  sink  to  earth,  lost  in  her  grimy  deeps. 


44  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Destined  for  Heaven,  that  realm  thy  spirit  craves. 
And  fain  above  the  chains  of  earth  would  soar. 
Impelled,  aspiring,  to  a  high  estate  ; 

Thence,  all  thy  longings  for  a  lofty  sphere  ; 
Thy  purpose  reaching  to  sublimity. 

Aspire ;  attain  ;  immortal,  live  for  aye, 
While  we,  the  earth-sprung  vapors,  pass  away. 


MEMOKIES. 

WE  were  married  in  the  Autumn, 
In  the  season  of  content ; 

And  exulting  in  its  sweetness, 
All  our  honey-moon  we  spent. 


NEW-YEAR'S   EVE   AND   MORN. 

But  of  honey  for  our  wedlock 
Love  had  gathered  such  a  store, 

That  although  we  feast  upon  it. 
Still  our  treasure  yields  us  more. 

In  the  years  we've  lived  together, 
Many  changing  moons  we've  seen  ; 

But,  in  rough  or  pleasant  weather, 
Each  a  honey-moon  has  been. 


NEW-YEAK'S  EYE  AND  MOKN. 

SOFT  and  thickly  falls  the  snow, 
On  a  dreary  New-Year's  eve ; 

Madly  do  the  wild  winds  blow, 

While  the  Old  Year  takes  his  leave, 

And  the  young  New  Year  perforce 
Enters  roughly  on  his  course. 


46  ROSES  AND   MYKTLES. 

Dawning  fair,  without  a  cloud, 
All  the  New- Year's  morn  beholds 

Is  the  white  and  dazzling  shroud, 
Which  the  scars  of  earth  enfolds ; 

All  the  landscape,  every  where, 
Smiling,  beaming,  purely  fair. 

Covered  by  the  spotless  snow, 
All  the  fields  and  meadows  lie  ; 

~Not  a  trace  by  which  to  know 
Aught  of  busy  days  gone  by  ; 

Yet  those  buried  fields  are  now 

Seamed  and  furrowed  by  the  plough. 

Joying  in  his  glad  young  strength, 
Laughs  in  glee  the  merry  sun, 

Heedless  of  the  toilsome  length 

Ere  the  twelvemonth's  course  be  run ; 

Yet  that  weary,  woeful  race 
Soon  will  dim  his  smiling  face. 


WHAT   IS  LOVE?  47 

Gladdened  by  his  cheerful  beams, 
Joy  we,  comrades,  laugh  and  sing ; 

Once  more  dream  we  pleasant  dreams, 
This  year  may  fulfilment  bring  ; 

Pass  the  friendly  wish  around, 
May  this  year  in  joys  abound. 


WHAT  IS   LOVE? 

FIRST   VOICE. 

WHAT  is  love  ?     The  wildest  folly, 

Dire  infatuation. 
Does  love  entice  thee  ? 

Fly,  Oh !  haste  thee ! 
Fly  for  thy  salvation  ! 


48  ROSES  AXD   MYRTLES. 

Love  is  a  grievous  ill.     Once  in  the  snare, 
Thou'rt  parted  from  thy  judgment  to  discern 
'Twixt    right    and    wrong,   the    evil    and    the 

good. 

Blinded  by  love,  all  will  seem  fair  to  thee ; 
All  gentle  and  all  good.     Thou  wilt  neglect 
Thy    home,    thy    friends,    thy    duty,   and    wilt 

spend 
Thy  life's  best  strength  in  winning  that  which 

won 

May  prove  a  thorn  to  rankle  evermore. 
Nay,  fly  from  love.     It  leads  us  far  astray ; 
If  thou  would'st  wed,  let  reason  guide  the  way. 

Love  is  ever  wildest  folly, 

Dire  infatuation, 
If  love  entice  thee, 

Fly,  Oh !  haste  thee  ! 
Fly  for  thy  salvation. 


WHAT   IS  LOVE?  49 

SECOND    VOICE. 

What  is  love  ?     A  voice  from  Heaven ; 

Angel  invitation. 
Does  love  invite  thee  ? 

Hear !  Oh !  heed  thee  ! 
Hear  the  invitation. 

Behold 

A  crowded  room,  gay  robes  and  brilliant  lights, 
Perfume  of  flowers  and  music  of  the  dance. 
Beside  a  garden  window  overhung 
With  snowy  garlands  of  the  bridal  rose 
Stand  man  and  maiden  in  the  dream  of  life, 
Alone  amid  a  crowd.     ^No  eye  gives  heed  ; 
~No  voice  disturbs   their  blissful  dream.      They 

stand, 
Hand  clasped  in  hand,  and  she  with  downcast 

eyes, 

In  joy  new-found,  too  deep,  too  still  for  words, 
Till  by  the  lull  of  music  half-aroused. 


50  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

How  can  they  now  return  into  the  crowd 
And  gaudy  glare  of  lights  ?     Nay  rather  forth 
Upon  the  terraced  walk— There,  arm  in  arm, 
Wrapped  by  the  moon  in  cloak  of  silver  light, 
They  linger,  gazing  toward  the  star  of  love, 
So  will  they  walk  together  through  life's  vale, 
Each  all-contented  with  the  other's  love, 
And  ever  looking  toward  their  guiding  star. 

Love  is  ever  sent  from  Heaven, 

With  angel  invitation, 
If  love  invite  thee, 

Hear  and  yield  thee 
To  love's  solicitation. 


THE   BROKEN  HEART.  51 


THE  BKOKEN  HEAET. 

O  MOTHEE,  let  me  lay  my  head 

Upon  thy  loving  breast ; 
Youth's  sunny  dreams  from  me  have  fled, 

I  only  long  for  rest. 

Dear  mother,  while  I  lay  my  head 

Upon  thy  yearning  breast, 
My  heart,  by  cheating  hope  misled. 

Still  vainly  longs  for  rest. 

O  mother,  hold  my  aching  head 

Upon  thy  faithful  breast ; 
Ere  long,  among  the  quiet  dead 

Thy  weary  one  shall  rest. 


52  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 


TEEE  AND  lilVER. 

TREE. 

WHITHER  speed  you,  restless  river  ? 

Whither?     Whither? 
While  so  eagerlj  you  quiver  ; 

Whither?     Whither? 

RIVER. 

Forth  to  swell  the  mighty  ocean  ; 

Swelling,  swelling, 
Boundless  mass,  in  surging  motion  ; 

Swelling,  swelling. 

Thither  speed  I,  restless  river ; 

Thither,  thither ; 
While  with  eagerness  I  quiver ; 

Thither,  thither. 


UNDER  THE   SNOW.  53 

In  the  vast  of  heaving  motion 

Lost,  to  vanish ; 
In  the  grandeur  of  the  ocean, 

Gladly  vanish. 


UKDER  THE  SNOW. 

UNDER  the  snow  there's  a  promise  growing, 
Rich  and  bountiful,  warm  and  bright ; 

A  promise  of  milk  and  honey  flowing, 
Of  earth  in  summer  glories  dight. 

Under  the  snow  for  the  spring-time's  pleasure, 
The  teeming  earth  keeps  warm  her  heart ; 

So  my  darling  shields  her  bosom's  treasure, 
With  a  snowy  veil  of  maiden's  art. 


54  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Under  the  snow  of  her  queenly  coldness, 
Glows  and  gladdens  a  promise  bright ; 

Melting  the  snows  into  tender  boldness, 
To  bless  my  life  with  a  rare  delight. 


PENSIVE  DKEAMHTO. 

OH  !  the  sweet,  the  pensive  dreaming, 

Of  this  cloudy,  sunless  day ; 
All  my  cares  and  trials  seeming 

From  my  life  to  fade  away. 

Heavenly  love  seems  brooding  o'er  us, 
Shielding  us  with  out-stretch'd  wings ; 

Watching  tenderly  before  us, 
Warding  off  all  hurtful  things  ; 


PENSIVE   DREAMING.  55 

While  our  hearts,  with  timid  quaking, 

Heed  the  warning  call  of  love  ; 
Kef uge  from  all  evil  taking 

In  the  mighty  power  above. 

Like  the  trustful  birdies  creeping 

Close  within  the  downy  nest ; 
Snugly  and  securely  sleeping, 

Underneath  their  mother's  breast. 

May  the  sweet,  the  pensive  dreaming 

Of  this  cloudy,  sunless  day, 
Chasten,  and  with  softened  feeling 

Temper  all  life's  weary  way. 


56  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


SWEET  VIOLET. 

OF  all  the  flowers  the  garden  shows, 
The  lowliest  one,  that  meekest  grows, 
And  hides  its  unobtrusive  head 
Beneath  the  leaves  which  fill  its  bed, 
Is  sweetest,  dearest,  best  of  all ; 
Sweet  violet,  the  gem  we  call. 

Of  all  the  maidens,  fair  and  kind, 
The  lowliest,  meekest  one  we  find, 
Who  hides  her  graces,  pure  and  rare, 
Far  from  the  world's  unveiling  glare, 
Is  sweetest,  dearest,  best  of  all ; 
Sw^eet  violet,  the  maid  we  call. 


LULLABY.  57 


LULLABY. 

BYE,  baby,  bye, 
Lullaby  on  my  breast, 

Bye,  baby,  bye, 
Little  bird  in  her  nest ; 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  lull. 

Bye,  baby,  bye, 
My  soft  little  dove ; 

Bye,  baby,  bye, 
Pretty  rose-bud  of  love  ; 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  lull. 

Bye,  baby,  bye, 
Till  the  day  'gins  to  blink ; 

Bye,  baby,  bye, 
Nor  wake  for  a  wink  ; 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  lull. 


58  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Bye,  baby,  bye, 
Little  sun  beaming  bright ; 

Bye,  baby,  bye, 
Lullaby  all  the  night ; 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  lull. 


A  DECADE. 

TEN  years  ago,  in  marriage  vows, 

I  pledged  my  love  to  thee  ; 
My  heart,  my  life,  and  endless  truth ; 

And  thou  didst  give  to  me, 
Most  solemnly,  thy  plighted  troth, 

Ever  mine  own  to  be. 

Ten  years  have  passed,  my  vow  is  kept, 
Unbroken,  until  now ; 


THE   BARD.  59 


My  life,  my  faith,  untiring  love, 
I've  given  thee  ;  and  thou 

Hast  recompensed  my  constancy 
With  thy  dishonored  vow. 


THE   BARD. 

OH  !  do  not  trust  the  bard, 
He  takes  delight  in  lying ; 

And  while  he  sings  for  joy, 
Declares  that  he  is  sighing. 

When,  glad  of  heart,  he  smiles, 
He  prates  of  deadly  sorrow ; 

And  if,  perchance,  he  grieve, 
Will  notes  of  gladness  borrow. 


60  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

I  knew  a  poet  once, 

Whose  cup  o'erflowed  with  blessing, 
With  happiness  and  love, 

And  fortune's  blind  caressing. 


Propitious  at  his  birth, 

The  lavish  goddess  smiled  ; 

And  with  the  joys  of  earth 
Endowed  this  favored  child. 


And  yet  the  cunning  wight. 
With  many  a  doleful  ditty, 

Lamenting  o'er  his  plight, 
Demanded  tender  pity. 

He  sang  of  loss  and  pain, 

And  while  he  lived  in  gladness, 
Employed  his  happy  life 

In  plaintive  songs  of  sadness. 


BREATH   OF  THE   MORNING.  01 

Then  never  trust  a  bard, 

Melodiously  lying ; 
He,  while  he  lives  in  joy, 

"Will  vow  that  he  is  sighing. 


BEEATH  OF  THE  MORNING. 

A    MADRIGAL. 

BREATH  of  the  morning ! 

Breathe  on  my  rose  ; 
With  freshest  adorning, 

Bedeck  her  repose. 

Fondle  her  tresses, 

Free,  flowing  veil, 
With  gentlest  caresses 

Of  soft,  wooing  gale. 


62  HOSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Wake  her  with  singing 
Of  birds  on  the  wing  ; 

A  gay  chorus  winging, 
Their  matins  to  sing. 

Greet  her  awaking 

From  love,  in  a  dream, 

With  rosiest  breaking 
Of  day's  dawning  gleam. 

All  that  is  meetest, 
All  that  is  bright, 

Waft  to  my  sweetest, 
To  wake  her  delight. 


EDITH  BEFORE   THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  63 


EDITH  BEFOEE  THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 

BEFOEE  a  glass  stands  little  Edith, 
Attracted  by  her  own  sweet  face  ; 

Its  infant  loveliness  she  heedeth, 
And  marvels  at  the  baby  grace. 

She  marks  each  changing  smile  and  dimple, 
The  rosy  cheeks  and  dancing  curls, 

With  bright  blue  eyes,  so  frank  and  simple. 
The  prettiest  of  little  girls. 

Then  slowly,  softly,  half-unwitting, 
Her  lips  those  mirrored  beauties  meet ; 

Unconscious  tribute,  well-befitting, 
Beauty  so  innocent  and  sweet. 


6tt  KOSES  AND  MYRTLES. 


GENTLE  ANKLE  DAY. 

WILL  you  of  azure  truest  and  rarest  ? 
Will  you  of  roses  freshest  and  fairest  ? 
Will  you  of  nectar  sweetest  and  purest  ? 

Seek  gentle  Annie  Day. 

Will  you  of  love-thoughts,  tenderest,  deepest ' 
Will  you  of  love-looks,  shyest  and  sweetest  ? 
Will  you  of  love-deeds,  freest  and  fleetest  ? 
Woo  gentle  Annie  Day. 

Have  you  a  heart  for  love,  fervent  and  true  ? 
Have  you  an  arm  to  shield,  brave  will  to  do  ? 
Then  boldly  seeking  her,  gallantly  woo, 

Win  gentle  Annie  Day. 


THE   MORNING-GLORY. 


THE  MOKOTNG-GLOKY. 

I  WILL  hide  me  in  the  earth, 

I,  poor  seed  ! 
I  am  small  and  hard,  not  worth 

Much  indeed. 
In  the  soft  and  mellow  ground, 

Buried  deep, 
I  shall  nevermore  be  found, 

Where  I  sleep. 

If  a  useful  grain  of  wheat, 

Golden  corn, 
Or  for  any  service  meet, 

I  were  born, 
Then  right  gladly  to  the  mill 

Would  I  give 
My  small  body  ;  with  good  will 

Cease  to  live. 


66  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Then,  beyond  the  light  of  day, 

Out  of  sight, 
Sank  the  lowly  seed  away 

Into  night. 
But  the  life-producing  mold 

Did  its  form 
Snugly  in  its  bed  enfold, 

Soft  and  warm. 

Into  life  sprang  up  the  seed, 

New  and  fine  ; 
Not  a  useless,  cumbrous  weed, 

But  a  vine 
Strong  and  green,  which  met  the  Sun 

Every  day, 
With  new  blossoms,  every  one 

Fresh  and  gay. 

Climbing  on  the  roadside  wall, 
Free  and  bright, 


THRICE-TRIED.  G7 

It  rejoiced  the  hearts  of  all 

At  the  sight. 
Then  the  seed  which  had  been  changed, 

By  God's  hand, 
Knew  that  all  was  well-arranged. 

Wisely  planned. 


THKICE-TKIED. 

TIIKICE   tried,  thrice   broken    and   a   third   time 

healed, 

Now  is  my  soul  at  rest ;  her  safety  sealed  ; 
Here  have  I  gained  at  length  life's  placid  stream  ; 
Here  is  it  given  me  to  rest — and  dream. 

Thus  spake  a  wanderer,  travel-worn  and  gray ; 
Whose  feet  had  travelled  far  life's  weary  way. 


68  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

While  trembling  on  his  lips  the  word  still  hung, 
Again  with  sudden  grief  his  heart  is  wrung ; 

O  fool !  and  slow  to  learn  !  he  sadly  cries ; 
Did'st  dream  of  rest  and  peace  below  the  skies  ? 
Oh,  that  my  spirit  wings  had  like  the  dove  ! 
Then  would  I  flee  away  and  be  at  rest ; 
Only  in  Heaven  can  the  soul  be  blest. 


SONNET. 

WHEN  we  with  urgent  will  our  wish  require, 
God  hearkens  not ;  we  ask,  but  ask  in  vain  ; 
When  we  a  blessing  from  the  Lord  desire, 
Faith  only  may  His  gracious  favor  gain  ; 
Faith  in  His  providence,  faith  in  His  love, 
Faith  in  the  wisdom  of  His  mighty  will ; 


ISABEL.  69 

Faith  in  God's  majesty,  all  might  above, 
Faith  in  His  power  His  promise  to  fulfil. 
When  to  our  Father's  feet  our  wish  we  bring, 
Obedient  to  His  will  our  wills  incline, 
His  tender  bounty  gives  each  needful  thing, 
And  shapes  our  destiny  with  love  divine ; 
Love  far  beyond  the  scope  of  mortal  men, 
Their  best  conceptions  and  their  wisest  ken. 


ISABEL. 

LOOK  not  with  an  evil  longing, 
On  the  dainty  Isabel ; 

Harbor  no  desire  of  wronging 
The  lovely  maiden,  Isabel. 


70  HOSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Our  village  pride,  our  village  beauty, 

Is  mirthful,  merry  Isabel ; 
You  ne'er  can  lead  astray  from  duty 

The  modest  maiden,  Isabel. 

With  gold  and  jewels  you  may  try  her, 
They're  dust  and  dross  to  Isabel ; 

Your  wealth  and  lands  can  never  buy  her, 
My  honest-hearted  Isabel. 

In  yonder  cottage,  hour  by  hour, 
She  minds  her  work,  brave  Isabel ; 

No  lordly  heir  of  wealth  and  power 
May  ever  mate  with  Isabel. 

In  spring-time,  when  the  birds  were  pairing, 

I  told  my  love  to  Isabel ; 
With  ardent  wooing,  boldly  daring, 

I  won  the  heart  of  Isabel. 


WELCOME.  71 

High  Heaven  to  our  witness  taking, 

I  plighted  troth  with  Isabel ; 
Her  vow  she  ne'er  will  dream  of  breaking, 

My  loyal  maiden,  Isabel. 

I've  wrought  with  vigor  in  my  calling, 

I've  gained  a  home  for  Isabel ; 
And  thither,  when  the  leaves  are  falling, 

I'll  take  my  bride,  my  Isabel. 


WELCOME. 

SWEET  dove,  thy  sheltered  nest 
Shall  be  my  loving  breast. 

Here  hide  thy  fluttered  heart, 
Chased  by  the  venomed  dart. 


72  ROSES  AXD   MYRTLES. 

Here  quiet  thine  alarms, 
Safe  here  within  my  arms. 

Here  rest  thy  watchful  eyes, 
Here  breathe  thy  grateful  sighs 

Sweet,  gentle-hearted  dove. 
Here  thou  art  welcome,  love. 

Flee  from  the  evil  air, 
Where  oft  doth  lurk  a  snare. 

Here  reach  no  powers  of  ill, 
To  work  their  evil  will. 

Fled  from  the  stormful  height, 
To  lowly,  calm  delight, 
No  terror  shall  affright 
My  dove,  by  day  or  night. 


THE   SOLDIER'S   BABE.  73 


THE  SOLDIER'S   BABE. 

A  MOTHER  is  weeping, 

While  the  world  is  all  sleeping, 

Sobs  frequent,  heart-breaking 

Betoken  her  woe ; 
Her  baby  is  dying, 
In  her  clasping  arms  lying, 
Her  all  death  is  taking, 

Her  idol  must  go. 

The  word  has  been  spoken. 
And  her  fond  heart  is  broken, 
Long,  long  ere  day-breaking, 

Her  cup  shall  be  filled ; 
The  moments  were  numbered, 
Till  her  boy  in  death  slumbered, 
No  skill  nor  pains-taking 

Can  change  what  God  willed. 


ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Insatiately  gazing 

Into  blue  eyes  fast  glazing, 

Press  kisses,  sad  mother, 

On  cheek,  brow  and  neck ; 
Once  more  to  see  clearly 
The  sweet  face  loved  so  dearly, 
Your  agony  smother, 

Your  blinding  tears  check. 

To  God  who  has  given, 
Lift  the  heart  which  is  riven, 
He  ever  is  heeding 

The  prayers  which  we  send ; 
Your  darling  yet  liveth, 
And  the  Father,  who  giveth 
An  ear  to  our  pleading, 

In  mercy  may  bend. 

O  Savior,  most  holy, 
Hear  thy  suppliant  lowly, 


THE   SOLDIER'S  BABE.  75 

Thou,  Victor  art  reigning 

O'er  death  and  the  grave  ; 

Thy  power  in  blessing 

Ever  chiefly  expressing, 

Show  pity  in  deigning 

Our  treasure  to  save. 

In  battle  engaging, 

In  the  fore-front's  wild  raging, 

His  father  is  daring 

The  wrath  of  the  foe ; 
O  Father,  All  Holy ! 
Heed  thy  suppliant  lowly, 
Our  precious  one  sparing, 

His  father  to  know. 

A  struggle — a  gasping — 
And  the  mother  is  clasping, 
Distractedly  screaming, 

A  form  without  life  ; 


76  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

The  fierce  conflict  ended, 
On  the  greensward  extended, 
A  soldier  is  dreaming 

Of  baby  and  wife. 

The  mother  still  weepeth, 
While  her  boy  in  death  sleepeth, 
The  soldier  undaunted 

New  danger  has  braved  ; 
The  Father,  most  holy, 
To  his  suppliant  lowly, 
This  answer  has  granted, 

Her  darling  is  saved. 

He's  saved  from  all  evil, 
From  the  world  and  the  devil, 
From  sorrow  and  sighing, 

From  pain  and  from  sin  ; 
Kedeemed  and  sainted, 
Before  God  all  untainted, 


THE  SOLDIER'S  BABE.  77 

The  infant  in  dying, 

Such  blessing  doth  win. 

Then,  mother,  cease  weeping 
O'er  the  babe  in  death  sleeping, 
His  spirit  immortal 

Is  safe  in  God's  love, 
His  messenger  heeding, 
Upward  eagerly  speeding, 
It  passed  through  death's  portal. 

To  glory  above. 

At  the  coming  of  Jesus, 

Who  from  sin  and  death  frees  us, 

The  body  which  perished 

Immortal  shall  rise ; 
Exalted,  victorious, 
Inconceivably  glorious, 
The  babe  you  have  cherished 

Shall  reign  in  the  skies. 


78  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


ACCEPTANCE. 

YES  !  both  my  hands  and  all  my  heart, 
All  that  I  am  I  gladly  give  ; 

And  wilt  thou  nevermore  depart, 
Ever  beside  thee  may  I  live  ? 

Oh  !  May  I  always  hear  thy  voice, 
Be  welcome  ever  at  thy  side  ; 

And  will  thy  noble  heart  rejoice, 
In  union  with  me  to  abide  i 

O  blissful  day !  O  glad  !  O  sweet ! 

Oh  !  thus  to  look  upon  thy  face  ! 
Nay,  dearest,  seated  at  thy  feet, 

Here  is  my  longed-for  resting-place. 


SPRING  TOKEX.  79 

Oil !  Lay  thy  bands  upon  my  brow  ; 

Thus  lay  them  softly  on  my  bead ; 
Oh  !  I  have  longed  to  be  as  now, 

My  heart  is  healed.     My  griefs  are  fled. 


SPKIXG  TOKEN. 

THERE'S  a  glint  of  the  spring  in  the  sunshine  this 
even, 

Said  Delia,  one  late  winter's  day ; 
A  glinting  of  spring,  like  a  token  from  Heaven, 

Gives  a  glow  to  the  sun's  parting  ray. 

So  when  life's  weary  winter  is  nearing  its  ending, 
And  we  count  the  few  days  ere  its  close  ; 

A  gleaming  of  spring-tide  eternal,  transcending, 
Sheds  a  glow  from  above  on  our  snows. 


80  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


ELFIN   LAY. 

TKIP — trip — tra — la — lay — 
Merrily  sound  the  elfin  lay ; 

Merrily  ring, 

Cheerily  sing, 
Gallant  elf  and  sprightly  fay. 

Trip — trip — tra — la — lay- 
Airily  dance  till  dawning  day ; 

In  fairy  ring, 

Daintily  swing, 
And  floating  zephyrs  lightly  sway. 

Trip — trip — tra — la — lay- 
Answering  echoes  far  away, 

Lively  and  gay, 

Echo  the  lay, 
Fairies  sing  till  break  of  day. 


A  SIMILITUDE.  81 


A  SIMILITUDE. 

BEHOLD  this  lowly  plant.     The  simple  leaves, 
Glossy  and  lanceolate,  and  lightly  swayed 
By  softest  airs  that  blow,  make  all  its  claim 
To  beauty ;  all  its  show  of  fair  array. 
It  bears,  indeed,  a  blossom  ;  all  plants  bloom, 
By  rule  of  nature  ;  but  with  sparing  hand, 
No  brilliant  hues  she  granted  here,  no  form 
Symmetrical,  but  hid  the  modest  flower 
Beneath  the  leaves,  from  which  its  paler  tint 
Is  scarce  discernible.     No  fragrant  breath 
Is  wafted  toward  us  from  the  tiny  shrub. 

Why  ask  I  for  such  insignificance 
So  much  regardful  thought  ? 

Reach  forth  your  hand, 
And  press  between  your  fingers  one  small  leaf. 


§2  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

What  ravishes  the  sense,  and  fascinates, 
While  sweet,  entrancing  odor  fills  the  air  ? 

Henceforward  this  small  plant 
Is  valued  as  a  charming  source  of  pleasure. 
So  the  All-wise  creates,  sometimes,  a  heart, 
Which,  while  the  calm,  unruffled,  cloudless  days 
Of  prosperous  earthly  life-  glide  swiftly  by, 
O'erfull  of  joys  and  glowing  hours  of  bliss, 
Exhibits  no  peculiar  excellence. 

But  when  the  hand  that  made, 
Crushes  the  tender  spirit,  that  it  thrills, 
God  gives  the  poet-soul  the  power  to  breathe 
Itself  in  dulcet  strains  of  wondrous  music, 
Soul-stirring,  powerful  notes,  which  the  charmed 

ear 

And  listening  heart  of  all,  own  God-created, 
And  yield  Him  praise. 


APHORISMS.  83 


APHOKISMS. 

UNBEND  the  bow,  relax  the  strain, 
Or  seek  the  arrow's  speed  in  vain. 

Unbend  the  mind,  relax  the  brain, 
Or  seek  the  arrowy  thought  in  vain. 


TO  A  PAKEOT. 

O  POLLY,  cease  your  senseless  gabble ! 

Your  noisy  laughter,  shrieks  and  shouts, 
May  serve  to  please  the  vulgar  rabble 

Of  giddy  maids  and  lazy  louts. 


84:  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

But,  Polly,  when  a  man  of  learning 
Is  fain  to  ponder  weighty  themes, 

Your  parrot  tongue  his  brain  is  turning, 
With  vengeful  deeds  his  fancy  teems. 

You,  Poll,  appear  to  him  in  vision, 
With  glazing  eyes  and  broken  neck ; 

Your  tongue,  with  lunatic  derision, 
He  takes,  his  gloomy  den  to  deck. 

Then,  Polly,  when  you  see  a  student, 
Intent  upon  his  musty  books, 

Take  my  advice,  poor  Poll,  be  prudent, 
Nor  twit  him  with  his  sombre  looks. 


LOVE.  85 


LOYE. 

LOVE  stays  not  long  with  maids  who  slight  his 

pleading  ; 

The  flames  of  love  need  dextrous,  dainty  feeding ; 
'Tis  but  a  fable  wrought  for  hearts'  undoing, 
To  keep  your  love,  be  deaf  to  all  his  wooing. 

Love  is  a  timid,  wary  guest, 
Whose  temper  'tis  not  wise  to  test ; 
Give  him  rough,  unhandsome  using, 
And  straight  he  flits,  another  choosing. 


86  EOSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


ONCE  I  LOVED. 

ONCE  I  loved,  and  loving,  fancied 
Love  like  mine  must  meet  return ; 

Such  a  flame  of  love,  enkindled, 
Should  not,  could  not,  vainly  burn. 

All  too  soon  I  learned  full  surely, 
Learned  with  heart-consuming  pain, 

Love  like  mine  that  burned  so  wildly, 
Could  be,  would  be,  all  in  vain. 


LILY.  87 


LILY. 

FAIREST  of  summer  flowers, 
Sheltered  in  garden  bowers, 
Child  of  the  sunny  hours, 
Lily,  my  Lily. 

While  dewy  breezes  blow, 
While  summer  sunbeams  glow, 
Ere  blight  of  sin  or  woe 

Sully  my  Lily ; 

Comes  from  the  angel  band 
One  who,  with  gentle  hand, 
Up  to  the  sunny  land, 

Bears  my  sweet  Lily. 


gg  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 


WEARY  YEAES  AGO. 

LIFE  was  bright  and  sunny, 

All  the  hours  were  light, 
Hope,  in  fairy  visions 

Flamed  upon  the  sight, 
All  the  past  and  present 

Flooded  in  the  glow 
Cast  upon  the  future 

Weary  years  ago. 

Not  a  mist  of  sadness 

Dimmed  the  prospect  bright ; 
Not  a  breath  of  coldness 

Boded  of  the  night ; 
Xot  the  faintest  shadow 

Of  the  clouds  of  woe 
Chilled  the  dawn  of  transport 

Weary  years  ago. 


WEARY   YEARS  AGO.  89 

Day-dreams  pure  and  happy 

Revelled  gay  and  bright, 
All  the  fleeting  moments 

Trembled  with  delight, 
Hearts  knew  naught  of  sadness, 

No  heart-breaking  throe, 
In  the  day  of  gladness 

Weary  years  ago. 

Like  the  early  snowflake 

Vanished  into  air, 
Like  the  beauteous  rainbow 

Evanescent,  fair, 
All  the  brilliant  visions 

Lost  their  fairy  glow, 
All  the  prospect  darkened 

Weary  years  ago. 

Dark,  o'er  all  the  future, 
Clouds  of  sadness  lie  ; 


90  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Not  a  gleam  of  brightness 
Lights  the  frowning  sky ; 

Gloomy  forms  of  darkness 
Heavy  shadows  throw 

From  the  clouds  that  gathered 
Weary  years  ago. 


A  SWEET   LITTLE  BIRD. 

A  SWEET  little  bird  in  the  tangled  bushes ; 

Sing  low,  sing  cheery ; 
Sing,  little  bird,  the  world-old  tune  ; 

Sing  to  your  dearie. 

A  snug  little  nest  in  the  tangled  bushes  ; 

Sing  low,  sing  cheery ; 
Sing,  little  bird,  the  world-old  tune  ; 

Sing  to  your  dearie. 


A  SWEET   LITTLE   BIRD.  91 

Five  tiny  eggs  in  the  snug  little  nest,  oh  ! 

Sing  low,  sing  cheery ; 
Sing,  little  bird,  the  world-old  tune  ; 

Sing  to  your  dearie. 

Five  tiny  birds  in  the  snug  little  nest,  oh  ! 

Sing  low,  sing  cheery ; 
Sing,  little  bird,  the  world-old  tune  ; 

Sing  to  your  dearie. 

Fly,  little  birds,  from  the  tangled  bushes  ; 

Fly  far,  sing  cheery ; 
Sing,  little  bird,  the  world-old  tune ; 

Sing  to  your  dearie. 


ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


LOYE  PEICELESS. 

IT  is  an  old-world  maxim,  taught  of  yore, 

If  one,  for  love,  would  offer  all  his  store, 

If,  for  the  priceless  boon,  love's  quenchless  flame, 

He'd  give  his  all  of  substance  freely  brought, 

The  paltry  essay,  tried  unto  his  shame, 

Would  be  contemned,  unworthy  of  a  thought. 

Love  strong  as  death,  love  deeper  than  the  grave, 

Meek  as  the  lamb,  and  like  the  lion,  brave, 

Bold  as  the  eagle,  gentle  as  the  dove, 

No  wealth  of  precious  stores  can  purchase  love. 

Born  of  the  breath  of  God,  man's  nobler  part, 

Child  of  the  soul,  plant  of  a  noble  heart, 

A  heavenly  germ,  borne  in  the  soil  of  earth, 

None  but  a  godlike  soul  can  give  it  birth. 


THE  BROKER'S  SONG.  93 


THE  BECKER'S  SONG. 

TALK  not  to  me  of  eyes  and  kisses, 

Of  clinging  arms  and  moonlight  hour ; 

Talk  not  to  me  of  love's  soft  blisses, 

My  heart  has  never  owned  love's  power. 

Talk  not  to  me  of  raven  tresses, 
Of  dewy  lips  and  sunny  locks ; 

Talk  not  of  lover's  fond  caresses  ; 
I'd  rather  hear  the  price  of  stocks. 

Let  others  cherish  vain  illusions, 

My  heart  is  proof  against  their  sway ; 

Unsound  investment,  love's  delusions, 
I'm  quite  assured  it  would  not  pay. 


ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


BUDS  AND  BLOSSOMS. 

BUDS  and  blossoms  we 
On  the  parent  tree  ; 

Shyly  peeping, 

Slowly  creeping 
Forth  the  world  to  see. 

Looking  forth  between 
Floating  veils  of  green, 

We  are  gazing 

On  a  mazing 
Wilderment  of  scene. 

Earth,  in  gala  drest, 
Gorgeous,  glowing  vest, 
Wide-extending 
Beauties  blending, 
Festive,  east  and  west. 


BUDS   AND   BLOSSOMS.  95 

Bounteous  mother,  Earth, 
Smile  upon  our  birth  ; 

Kindly  nourish 

That  we  flourish 
Into  noble  worth. 

Breezes,  gently  blow ; 
Genial  sunshine  glow, 

Ardor  beaming 

Cause  our  streaming 
Sap  to  rise  and  flow. 

Feed  us,  humid  air, 
Fill  our  petals  fair, 

Finely  winding 

Veinlets  finding 
Juices  fresh  to  bear. 

Vivid  rays  of  light 
Hither  wing  your  flight ; 


96  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Fiery  darting 
Warmth  imparting, 
Tint  with  rose  our  white. 

Buds  of  promise  we 
Blooming  fair  to  see  ; 
Fragrance  breathing 
On  the  wreathing 
Winds  that  flutter  free. 

Of  us,  every  flower, 
Hidden,  folds  a  dower, 
Now  enfolden 
Gleaming  golden 
Eipe  in  autumn's  hour. 


THE   DAISY.  97 


THE   DAISY. 

A  SINGLE  flower  upon  a  lowly  bed, 
First-born,  new-wakened  to  a  bright,  brief  life, 
Dew-nourished,  sunrise-tinted,  wrought  of  heaven, 
The  daisy — bud  of  promise — eye  of  day. 

A  maid  uprisen  fair  from  rosy  sleep, 
Her  cheek  warm-kindling  at  the  kiss  of  morn, 
Floats  in  the  sun-light  to  the  daisy  bed, 
Severs  with  eager  hand  the  lowly  stem, 
And  lifts  the  floweret  to  a  lip  of  love — 
'Tis  Marguerite,  our  tender  household  plant, 
Just  budding  into  blooming  maidenhood. 

A  maiden  form,  silent  and  cold  in  death, — 
An  open  grave  upon  a  grassy  slope — 
Bury  the  early  dead  beneath  the  sod, 

And  plant  the  daisy  on  the  new-made  grave. 

7 


98  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


Our  quiet  home — no  more  with  laughter  gay, 
~No  tripping  step,  no  early  morning  song— 
Our  Marguerite,  our  bud  of  promise,  sleeps, 
Waiting,  in  peace,  the  resurrection  morn, 
While  daisies  yearly  bloom  above  her  grave. 


BLISS. 

WHEN  soft  the  warbler  trills  his  tender  note, 
When  rosy  cloudlets  'thwart  the  azure  float, 
When  couches  Phoebus  in  his  golden  state, 
Then  leaps  my  heart  to  meet  its  genial  mate. 

When  morn  her  portal  opes  to  greet  the  day, 
When  beams  the  earth  with  mingled  beauties  gay, 
When  glows  all  nature  at  Sol's  ardent  kiss, 
Then  wakes  my  heart  in  sweetly  wedded  bliss. 


TO   CIILOE.  99 

TO   CIILOE. 

CUPID,  saluting,  pierced  my  lips 
With  darts,  the  arch  deceiver ; 

Dear  Chloe,  lend  your  damask  cheek, 
To  cool  their  burning  fever. 


A  LAMENT. 

HE  loved  me  not.     He  loved  my  cheek's  warm 

glow; 

The  roses  blooming  on  a  bed  of  snow. 
He  loved  me  not.     He  loved  the  beaming  eye, 
The  cherry  lips  that  breathed  for  him  a  sigh. 
He  loved  the  snowy  bosom's  classic  mould, 
The  rounded  arm,  the  soft  bright  curls  of  gold. 
Not  me  he  loved.     He  loved  my  form  so  fair  ; 
Not  me — but  my  gay  laugh  and  lightsome  air. 


100  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

He  loved  me  not.     O  maids  who  hear  my  woe, 
Freely  for  me  let  tears  of  pity  flow. 
I  gave  him  all  a  tender  maiden  gives 
To  him  in  loving  whom  alone  she  lives. 
My  love  so  strong  drove  even  death  away ; 
He  spared  the  victim  whom  he  came  to  slay. 
The  tyrant  left  me  to  my  lover's  arms, 
But  drew  so  near,  he  blighted  all  my  charms. 

O  Death  !  that  I  had  died !  with  thee  had  flown, 
Before  my  ardent  lover  cold  had  grown  ; 
Before  I  wandered  lone,  by  him  forgot ; 
He  loved  me  not !     Ah  me  !     He  loved  me  not. 


LINES   TO 


JUST  eight  and  seventy  years  ago,  to-day 
Since  thou,  a  helpless  infant,  cradled  lay, 
New-born,  and  with  a  living  soul  endowed ; 


PUSSY.  101 

No  loving  heart,  no  mind  illumed  by  age, 
The  wealth  of  noble  talents  could  presage, 
Which  to  thy  spirit's  portion  were  allowed. 
But  now  all  climes,  all  peoples  know  the  power, 
Which  budded  in  thee  at  thy  natal  hour. 


PUSSY. 

PUSSY,  why  so  sentimental  ? 

Meditate  you,  in  a  trice, 
Something  very  detrimental 

To  the  world  of  rats  and  mice  ? 

Is  it  simply  accidental, 

That  you  wear  so  grave  a  face  ? 
Merely  something  incidental 

To  the  quiet  time  and  place  ? 


102  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Does  that  look  of  meditation 
Cover  thoughts  of  anxious  care  ? 

Are  you  deep  in  cogitation, 

How  your  prey  you  may  ensnare  ? 

Why,  O  Puss,  so  consequential, 
As  you  move  about  the  house  ? 

Win  you  thus  such  deferential 

Peeps  from  every  skulking  mouse  ? 

Fierce  your  eyes'  quick  scintillations, 
When  his  mouseship  you  espy ; 

Well-content  your  cantillations, 
While  you  watch  your  victim  die. 

Creature  formed  of  contradictions, 
Soft  and  gentle,  fierce  and  sly ; 

Favorite  of  witchcraft  fictions, 
With  the  broomstick  in  the  sky. 


FATE.  103 


FATE. 

THE  evenings  come  and  the  evenings  go ; 

The  mystic  moon  is  greeting, 
Each  evening,  with  her  purest  glow. 

Two  lovers,  at  their  meeting. 

The  evenings  come  and  the  evenings  go ; 

The  tender  moon  shines  ever ; 
But  Fate  has  dealt  a  cruel  blow, 

Those  loving  ones  to  sever. 

The  evenings  come  and  the  evenings  go, 
With  silvery  moonbeams  lighted ; 

But  moonbeams  lift  no  shades  of  woe 
From  lives  thus  grief -benighted. 


104  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


THE  BLIND   GRANDFATHER. 

AYE,  Mary,  you  may  roll  my  garden-chair, 
Out  on  the  lawn,  beneath  the  old  elm-tree  ; 
The  sun  is  almost  set,  and  while  his  rays, 
In  parting,  linger  warmly  on  my  brow, 
I'll  dream  myself  back  to  the  happy  days, 
When  these  blind  eyes  could  see  and  feast  upon 
The  sunset  gorgeous  in  the  western  sky. 

Even  now  I  see  as  with  mine  eyes,  for  still, 
While  memory,  ever  faithful,  with  me  dwells, 
What  I  have  seen  or  known,  at  any  time 
During  my  life  that's  past,  is  all  my  own. 

While  memory  is  true  ;  but  if  she  e'er 
Refuse  to  answer  to  my  eager  call, 
Then  dark,  indeed,  will  be  the  little  span, 
Remaining  to  me  of  too  long  a  life. 


THE   BLIND   GRANDFATHER.  105 

Dark — dark — all  dark  ;  I  then  shall  grope  my 

way, 

Seeking,  still  seeking  for  my  treasures  lost ; 
Yet  vainly  seeking  till  I  find  my  grave. 
Thrice  welcome,  then,  my  ever  welcome  grave  ; 
In  finding  thee,  all  I  have  lost  is  found, 
Sight,  memory,  strength,  and  my  beloved  wife. 
Too  fondly  she  was  loved,  too  early  lost ; 
And  oh  !  such  loss  ! 

My  Mary,  thou  art  like  her ; 
Thy  full,  round  form,  thy  soft,  warm  cheek, 
Thy  small,  sweet  mouth,  which  oftentimes  doth 

press 

Upon  thy  grand  sire's  lips — 
A\rrinkled  and  old  and  withered  though  they  be, 
So  soft  and  warm  a  kiss — 
Even  now— 

My  darling  child ! 

Thy  blind  old  grandfather  could  almost  think 
That  time  had  wandered  backward  fifty  years, 


106  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

To  those  brief,  happy  days,  when  she  was  here, 
When  her  soft  arms  were  round  my  neck,  and 

thus 
She  lavished  tender  kisses. 

This  summer  eve  brings  back  to  me  the  days, 
When  she  and  I  were  young,  and  when  we  were, 
As  you  and  Gerald  are. 

I  loved  her.     To  be  near  her,  and  to  look 
Upon  her  soft,  fair  cheek  and  calm,  clear  brow, 
To  watch  the  drooping  lids,  the  dawning  smile, 
To  meet  the  open  brightness  of  her  glance, 
To  see  the  dimples  dancing  on  her  face, 
Which  seemed  the  very  dwelling-place  of  all 
Of  beautiful  and  good  that  earth  contains, 
To  listen  to  the  happy,  laughing  voice, 
The  merry  jest,  the  soft  caressing  words  ; 
This  made  my  happiness. 
Sincere  and  valued  ;  yet  I  longed  for  more  ; 
I  longed  to  touch  that  cheek  or  kiss  that  brow ; 
I  longed  to  sit  beside  her,  and  to  tell 


THE   BLIND   GRANDFATHER.  107 

How  all  my  heart  was  wrapped  up  in  the  love, 
Which  dwelt  in  me  for  her. 

I  longed  for  more. 

And  so  my  heart  lived  for  her ;  when  I  worked, 
Or  thought,  or  wished,  or  hoped,  'twas  all  for  her ; 
To  fit  for  her  approval  all  my  powers  ; 
To  make  myself  more  nearly  fit  to  stand 
Beside  her  as  an  equal.     So  I  lived, 
And  loved  her,  and  she  frankly,  sweetly,  still 
Looked  on  me,  smiled  on  me,  and  freely  talked, 
As  to  a  cherished  brother. 

In  her  heart 

~No  hidden  love  for  me  held  traitorous  sway, 
To  pale  her  cheek,  or  send  the  tell-tale  blush, 
In  sudden  crimson  o'er  the  brow  and  neck, 
Calmly  she  met  my.  look,  and  her  dear  voice 
Never  awakened  hope  in  my  fond  heart, 
By  timid  faltering  or  by  causeless  check. 
In  accents  firm  and  clear  she  spoke  her  thoughts, 
Words  grave  or  playful,  as  her  mood  might  stand, 


108  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

And  so  unconscious  seemed  she  of  my  love, 
So  frank,  so  friendly  and  so  pure  in  heart, 
That  on  my  lips  as  close  a  seal  was  placed, 
As  if  my  longing  thoughts  had  been  forbidden. 

By  neither  word  nor  token  could  I  dare 
To  show  the  warmth  and  passion  of  my  heart. 

Surely  she  loved  me  not,  it  could  not  be, 
That  she  could  keep  all  sign  of  tender  thoughts 
So  closely  hidden  from  my  eager  watch. 

Thus  my  heart  whispered,  and  I  held  my  peace. 
But  ah  !  one  blessed,  blissful  eve — 
A  summer  evening,  still  and  soft  and  warm, 
Our  walk  had  brought  us  to  the  rocky  beach, 
And  sitting  there  she  looked  upon  the  sea. 
She  watched  the  white  sails  slowly  moving  on, 
The  sunbeams  sparkling  in  the  briny  foam  ; 
She  looked  upon  the  sea.     I  looked  on  her. 
But  when  the  sun  had  set,  the  waves  grown  dark, 
And  now  she  rose  to  go,  she  met  my  look. 
She  trembled,  sighed  and  blushed— 


MARRIAGE   BELLS.  109 

Hark  !  Mary,  love  ! 
There's   Gerald   at   the  gate.      Aye,   sweet,   my 

child, 
Roll   back   the   garden-chair.      I'll   dream.      I'll 

dream. 
Go  walk  with  Gerald  by  the  river-side. 


MARRIAGE  BELLS. 

OH  !  Hearken  how  they  ring  ! 

The  merry  marriage  bells. 
Oh  !  Hear  the  maidens  sing 

And  listen  to  the  bells. 

There's  the  voice  of  a  sigh  in  the  tone  of  each  bell ; 
The  voice  of  a  sigh  and  the  toll  of  a  knell. 


110  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

They  tell  a  wondrous  tale, 

Those  merry  marriage  bells  ; 
We  lift  the  bridal  veil, 

And  listen  to  the  bells. 

There's  the  voice  of  a  sigh  in  the  tone  of  each  bell ; 
The  voice  of  a  sigh  and  the  toll  of  a  knell. 

They  till  our  hearts  with  fears, 

Those  merry  marriage  bells  ; 
With  sighs  and  falling  tears, 

We  listen  to  the  bells. 

There's  the  voice  of  a  sigh  in  the  tone  of  each  bell ; 
The  voice  of  a  sigh  and  the  toll  of  a  knell. 


A  DREAM.  HI 


A  DREAM. 

I  DREAMED  a  dream  the  other  night, 
A  dream  of  love  and  beauty  bright ; 
And  ever  when  the  dreams  alight, 
That  vision  brings  me  new  delight, 

I  dreamed  a  dream  of  evening  breeze, 

Of  dewy  grass  and  leafy  trees, 

Of  twilight  hum  of  busy  bees, 

Of  flowers  that  vie  to  win  and  please. 

I  dreamed  of  lovers  in  their  pride, 
Together  at  the  eventide  ; 
A  happy  husband  with  his  bride, 
In  love  and  honor  well-allied. 

Those  lovers  under  sunset  sky, 
Mingling  together  sigh  with  sigh, 


112  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

While  evening  shadows  hover  nigh, 
Those  lovers,  love,  were  you  and  I. 

And  must  the  blessed  vision  be 
Only  a  dream  for  you  and  me  ? 
Or,  wraking,  may  I  hope  to  see 
My  dream  become  reality? 


MIRTH  AND  WINE. 

WHILE  mirth  and  wine  go  round,, 
Let  Pleasure  rule  the  hour ; 

Let  songs  and  smiles  abound, 
To  gladden  Pleasure's  bower. 

While  mirth  and  wine  go  round. 
Let  Pleasure  be  our  guest ; 


WONDROUS  WITCHING. 

Let  merriment  resound, 
Obeying  her  behest. 

While  mirth  and  wine  go  round, 
Away  with  Prudence  grave ; 

Let  every  heart  be  found 
Gay  Pleasure's  eager  slave. 


WOKDKOUS  WITCHING. 

O  WONDKOIJS  witching  of  a  thrilling  voice ! 
Whose  magic  mystery  of  subtle  power, 
Entranced  my  spirit  in  a  fatal  hour, 
And  made  my  heart  in  ecstacy  rejoice. 

O  voice  of  music  tuned  on  heavenly  strings, 
Echo  of  angel  voices  in  its  tone, 
Of  all  on  earth  that  tuneful  voice  alone 
Seemed  qualified  to  breathe  love's  murmurings. 


114  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

O  pleasant  voice,  whose  potent,  secret  spell, 
And  syren  music  with  tempestuous  sweep, 
Troubled  the  waters  of  the  tranquil  deep 
And  stirred  the  heart  with  wild,  tumultuous  swell. 

O  voice  attuned  to  love,  but  not  for  me, 
Whose  welcome,  sweet  familiar  baleful  sound — 
Melodious  enchantment — held  me  bound, 
Till,  in  despair,  I  rallied  strength  to  flee. 

O  voice  long  lost,  long  banished  from  my  ear, 
A  plaintive  memory  of  a  well-known  strain, 
Whose  mellow  tones  once  wrought  my  bitter  pain, 
The  voice  which  thrilled  my  soul  I  dare  not  hear. 


SPRING-TIME   IS   COMING.  H5 


SPKING-TIME  IS   COMING. 

SPRING-TIME  is  coming 

Hear  the  wind  blow ; 
See  the  sun  sparkle  ; 

See  the  grass  grow  ! 
Spring-time  is  coming 

Hear  the  streams  flow ; 
Hear  the  hens  cackle  ; 

Hear  the  cocks  crow. 
Spring-time  is  coming, 

Feel  its  warm  glow  ; 
See  the  bright  showers  ; 

Hear  the  wind  blow. 

Spring-time  is  coming 
Look  where  you  will ; 

See  the  young  lambkins 
Frisk  on  the  hill ; 


116  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

See  the  blue  blossoms 

Lovely  and  still, 
Hidden  away  near 

The  clear  little  rill. 
Hear  the  wood  robin 

Hear  his  gay  trill ; 
Spring-time  is  coming, 

Feel  its  glad  thrill ! 


LITTLE  WHITE  VIOLET. 

LITTLE  white  violet,  wild  wood  flower, 
Your  home  is  a  cool,  secluded  bower. 
The  queen  of  fairies  honors  you, 
Above  your  sisters  robed  in  blue, 
With  dainty  blossoms,  pure  and  sweet, 
Whose  perfume  is  a  fairy  treat. 


LITTLE  WHITE  VIOLET.  H7 

The  leafy  nook  in  which  you  grow, 
Unsullied  as  the  flakes  of  snow, 
Is  watered  by  the  purest  dew, 
And  never  dry,  the  summer  through ; 
And  always,  on  the  moonlit  eves, 
A  dance  is  held  upon  the  leaves  ; 
Each  little  blossom  quits  her  bed, 
And  trips  it  till  the  moon  has  fled, 
But  when  the  day  begins  to  peep 
Each  pretty  rogue  is  sound  asleep  ; 
Then,  when  the  sun  begins  to  rise 
You  open  all  your  timid  eyes, 
And,  meekly  hidden,  outward  gaze 
To  greet  his  early  morning  rays. 


Little  white  violet,  wild  wood  flower, 
So  calm  you  look  in  your  leafy  bower, 
So  placid  in  the  dewy  shade, 
Deep  in  the  most  retired  glade, 


118  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Who  would  suppose  that  all  the  night 
You'd  dance  with  silver  moonbeams  bright  ? 
Oh  !  you're  a  lovely,  wild  wood  pet, 
You  little,  sweet  white  violet. 


HEART-PAIN. 

HEAKT-PAIN  !     Have  you  felt  it  ?    Ye  scoffers  and 

scorners, 

Have  you  felt  its  dread  weight  on  the  heart, 
Never    lightened    a    moment    by    cares    or    by 

pleasures, 
And  marking  its  victim  apart  ? 

Apart  from  his  comrades  in  youth  and  its  gladness, 

Apart  in  life's  busiest  years ; 
In  age  still  a  victim  of  anguish  and  sadness, 

Poor  heart,  overburdened  with  tears. 


TO  ANNA.  119 


TO  ANNA. 

WHAT  need  I  costly  works  of  art, 

By  sculptors  wrought  with  tedious  care  ? 

While,  throned  upon  my  Anna's  heart, 
Her  bosom  mocks  their  marvels  rare  ? 

What  need  I  diamonds  sparkling  bright, 
With  richest  ray  of  famed  Golconde, 

While  Anna's  eyes  with  dazzling  light, 
Beam  far  those  flashing  gems  beyond. 

What  needeth  she  for  gauds  to  sue  ? 

The  artist  Monarch  of  the  day 
Paints,  fond,  his  fairest,  purest  hue 

Of  beauty,  for  her  cheeks'  display. 

Why  need  I  seek  the  perfumed  bowers, 
Where  conscious  art  defects  would  hide  ? 


120  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

My  Anna's  breatli  outsweetens  flowers, 
That  blossom  on  the  meadow  side. 

My  Anna,  fairest,  loveliest,  best, 
Folded  within  thy  matchless  arms, 

I  find  upon  thy  glowing  breast, 
A  talisman  'gainst  all  that  harms. 


ASK  ME  NOT. 

ASK  me  not  why  I  borrow 
Inspiration  from  grief ; 

I  have  said  that  my  sorrow 
Finds  in  song  a  relief. 

Let  the  heart  that  is  broken 
Strive  to  laugh  and  be  gay; 

Still  of  anguish  some  token 
Will  it  ever  betray. 


POETS.  121 

For  a  smile  beams  but  sadly 
From  the  tear-burdened  eye ; 

And  a  laugh  ringing  gladly 
Dies  away  in  a  sigh. 

Marvel  not  that  I  borrow 

Inspiration  from  grief ; 
For  my  heart,  in  its  sorrow, 

Finds  in  song  a  relief. 


POETS. 

POETS  know  a  living  joy, 
A  laughing  exultation ; 

Happiness  without  alloy, 
Marvellous  sensation. 

Poets  see  with  wondrous  light 
Lent  to  earth  from  Heaven  ; 


122  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Poets  wield  a  heavenly  might, 
From  God  to  mortals  given. 

Poets  live  a  life  more  near 

The  angel  and  immortal, 
Than  aught  else  on  this  mundane  sphere  ; 

Nearer  the  golden  portal. 

They  live  above 

All  earthly  love, 
Earth's  sorrows  touch  them  lightly  ; 

They  sing  sweet  lays, 

The  live-long  days, 
And  dream  of  heaven  nightly. 

Let  me  rejoice, 

With  gladdest  voice, 
That  in  my  soul  were  planted 

The  seeds  of  bliss, 

So  great  as  this, 
Which  Heaven  to  me  hath  granted. 


SONG.      FLY,   MAIDEN!  123 


SONG.     FLY,  MAIDEN! 

FLY  !  Maiden  !  % ! 
Too  late,  for  Love  hath  found  thee. 

Sigh  !  Lover !  sigh  ! 
Love  in  his  toils  hath  wound  thee. 

Fly,  maiden,  fly  ! 
The  snares  of  Love  surround  thee. 

Sigh,  lover,  sigh ! 
Love  in  his  chains  hath  bound  thee. 

Fly,  maiden,  fly ! 
A  favored  moment  taking. 

Sigh,  lover,  sigh ! 
Thy  heart  is  doomed  to  breaking. 


124  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


SHE  LOVES  ME  NOT. 

SHE  loves  me  not.     She  heedeth  not  my  sigh, 
My  looks  of  love  meet  her  averted  eye  ; 
My  fond  request  she  quickly  doth  deny, 
She  loves  me  not.     Thus  bitterly  you  cry. 

Oh  !  Make  not  moan  with  such  a  bitter  cry 
Love's  signal  flames  in  her  averted  eye, 
With  eager  sense  she  hears  and  heeds  your  sigh, 
But  will  in  self-defense  your  wish  deny. 

Then  take  the  cautious  maiden  by  surprise ; 
Detect  the  traitor  lurking  in  her  eyes  ; 
Demand  her  secret ;  tax  her  with  her  sighs, 
And  blushing,  trembling,  in  your  arms  she  lies. 


NOTHING  AND  NOBODY.         125 


NOTHING  AND  NOBODY. 

NOTHING  and  nobody  !     Sorrowful  lot ! 
Hidden  away  in  poverty's  cot — 
In  sorrow  and  evil  a  child  was  got ; 
For  joy  and  honor  and  love  are  not 
In  nothing  and  nobody's  pitiful  cot. 

Nothing  and  nobody's  penniless  child, 
By  squalor  and  famine  and  vice  defiled, 
Away  from  the  grimy  depths  beguiled 
By  a  pitying  angel  of  good,  who  smiled 
On  nothing  and  nobody's  wondering  child ; 

Nothing  and  nobody,  offspring  of  woe, 
Lovingly  beckoned  the  way  to  go 
Away  from  his  misery,  loathsome  and  low, 
Away  from  his  ignorance,  direst  foe 
Of  nothing  and  nobody,  heir  of  woe  ; 


126  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Then  sheltered,  protected,  cultured,  and  fed, 
Taught  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  and  tenderly  led 
In  those  practical  pathways  of  knowledge  to  tread, 
Round  which  the  bright  glory  of  fortune  is  spread, 
And  pressing,  right  manfully,  on  to  the  head  ; 

Now,  founder  of  charities,  noble  and  grand. 
Patron  of  industries,  lord  in  the  land, 
Judge  o'er  his  fellow-men,  keeping  his  stand, 
By  wisdom  of  heart  and  by  firmness  of  hand, 
See  nothing  and  nobody,  lord  in  the  land. 


MERRY   CHRISTMAS   MORNING. 

WITH  busy  note  of  warning, 
The  clock,  on  Christmas  morning, 
Strikes  one — two — three — 
Young  voices  full  of  glee 

Shout  "  Merry  Christmas  morning." 


THE  BRIDAL  EVE.  127 

Awakened  by  the  chorus 
Of  voices  ringing  o'er  us, 
With  quick,  glad  cry, 
We  eagerly  reply, 

"  A  Merry  Christmas  morning." 

Rejoicing  at  the  warning, 
We  hail  the  Christmas  morning  ; 
With  deep,  glad  joy 
The  early  hours  employ, 

To  welcome  Christinas  morning. 


THE  BRIDAL  EYE. 

EYES  that  ask  for  no  concealing, 
Frankly  on  each  other  dwell ; 

Freely  in  that  gaze  revealing 

Greater  love  than  words  can  tell ; 


128  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Love  which,  with  its  ardent  flushing, 
Glowing  through  the  tender  frame, 

Kindles  maiden  cheeks  to  blushing ; 
Blushes  without  tinge  of  shame. 

Fitting  seal  of  pure  caressing 
Manhood  gives,  in  loving  pride, 

Fervently  a  kiss  impressing 
On  the  fresh  lips  of  his  bride. 

Then  to  Heaven's  watchful  keeping. 

Man  his  cherished  one  doth  leave, 
And  the  maiden,  sweetly  sleeping, 

Dreams  away  the  bridal  eve. 


MILDRED. 


129 


MILDBED. 

WHEN  I  sought  my  Mildred, 
In  the  beech-wood  grove ; 

All  my  heart's  devotion 
To  declare  I  strove. 

Lost  in  sighs,  the  story, 

Only  half  was  told, 
When  my  love  I  ventured 

In  my  arms  to  fold, 

Pleading  softly,  Mildred, 

Blessing  of  my  life, 
Be  my  own,  my  treasure, 

Be  my  precious  wife. 
9 


130  KOSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Well  I  knew  she  loved  me, 
Though  no  word  she  spoke, 

On  the  silence  blissful 
Not  a  whisper  broke  ; 

Though  her  eyes  were  downcast, 
And,  with  dainty  lid 

Like  a  cherry  blossom 
All  their  sweetness  hid  ; 

For  she  nestled  toward  me 

Like  a  snowy  dove, 
"With  the  gentle  love-trick 

Taught  of  trustful  love, 

And  her  sweet  mouth  trembled 

Like  a  leaf  in  May, 
Which  the  soft,  warm  breezes 

Kiss  and  coax  all  day. 


DISTANT   MUSIC.  131 

Mildred,  lovely  Mildred 

Blessing  of  my  life  ! 
Now  my  own,  my  darling, 

Now  my  cherished  wife. 


DISTANT  MUSIC. 

DISTANT  music  greets  the  ear ; 

What  cheer  ?     Good  cheer ! 
Listen,  brothers !     Hark,  we  hear 

It  near,  more  near  ! 
What  imports  the  glad  refrain  ? 

Again !     Again ! 
Victor  notes  of  lofty  strain  ! 

'Tis  plain,  'tis  plain. 


132  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Yes !  the  race  so  long  begun 

Is  done,  well  done, 
They  who  faithfully  have  run 

Have  won,  well  won. 
Onward  press  we  to  the  prize  ! 

Arise !     Arise ! 
Past  the  portal  of  the  skies, 

There  lies  the  prize. 

i 

Distant  music  greets  the  ear 

With  cheer ;  good  cheer, 
Listen,  brothers,  now  we  hear 

It  near,  more  near. 
What  imports  the  glad  refrain  ? 

Again !     Again ! 
Victors  boast,  in  joyful  strain, 

Of  gain,  great  gain. 


WOE.  133 

WOE. 

WOE  sounds  the  angel's  trump, 
And  at  the  dread  alarm, 
The  devils  flee  in  rout, 
The  dead  in  Christ  rise  up 
And  raise  their  mighty  shout, 
And  at  the  joyful  sound 
The  elders  cast  their  crowns 
Before  the  great  white  throne, 
And  raise  the  victor's  song ; 
Glory  to  God  alone ! 


THE  LOST  BIED. 

EMPTY  and  lone  the  bird-cage  swings ; 

Our  little  feathered  pet 
And  his  delightsome  carol  ings 

We  shall  not  soon  forget. 


134  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Early  and  late,  from  morn  till  night, 
The  skillful  songster  trilled 

His  varied  notes,  and  fresh  delight 
The  fleeting  moments  filled. 

Wearied  and  sad  though  I  might  feel, 

His  lively,  ringing  voice 
My  pensiveness  away  would  steal, 

My  weary  heart  rejoice. 

Of  tuneful  song  and  plumage  gay, 
To  please  the  eye  and  ear ; 

More  precious  to  me  day  by  day 
And  every  hour  more  dear. 

The  fact  was  settled  in  my  mind, 
As  fixed  as  fact  could  be, 

In  all  the  world  one  could  not  find 
So  fine  a  bird  as  he. 


THE   LOST  BIRD.  135 

Oft  said  I,  when  for  liberty 

My  birdie  seemed  to  plead, 
Keared  ever  in  captivity, 

Freedom  he  cannot  need. 

Within  the  limits  of  a  cage 

This  songster  saw  the  light, 
Content  with  such  an  heritage 

He  never  longs  for  flight. 

Flitting  on  restless,  fluttering  wings, 

From  perch  to  perch  again, 
To  him  a  state  of  bondage  brings 

No  weariness  or  pain. 

Although  within  a  narrow  bound 

A  prisoner  he  must  be, 
A  willing  prisoner  still  is  found 

One  who  was  never  free. 


136  ROSES   AND    MYRTLES. 

Delusive  hope,  robbed  of  its  sting, 

Dread  slavery  to  see  ; 
Know  ye  that  every  living  thing 

Still  pineth  to  be  free. 

Absent  from  home,  a  trifling  space 

I  left  my  valued  bird  ; 
Returned  to  my  accustomed  place, 

A  sad  account  I  heard. 


My  bird  had  flown,  gone  far  away, 
From  tenderness  and  care  ; 

I  sought  him  vainly,  day  by  day, 
A  long  time,  every  where  ; 

Long  after  his  too  fragile  form 

Had  met  untimely  death, 
And  in  some  heavy,  drowning  storm, 

Had  lost  its  little  breath. 


A  CONCEIT.  137 

While  safely  in  a  cage  confined, 

For  liberty  he  sighed, 
For  liberty  the  captive  pined, 

At  liberty,  he  died. 


A   CONCEIT. 

I  HAVE  often  observed,  with  no  little  surprise, 
That  no  wife  loves  her  husband  so  well  as  her 

boys, 

And  I  fancy  that  herein  the  mystery  lies, 
That,  although  he's   the   partner  and   source  of 

her  joys, 
Her  sons  are  her  own  from  the  first  breath  they 

draw, 
While  he's  ever  the  son  of  her  mother-in-law. 


138  ROSES  AND  MYRTLES. 


FOKTY  TIMES. 

FOKTY  times  'twixt  morn  and  night, 

Comes  a  little  cherub  bright, 

A  very  Cupid  to  the  sight, 

And  with  arms  around  me  clasped, 

Hugging  tight 

With  all  his  might, 

Pressing  kisses  on  my  lips, 

Murmurs  soft  and  low  and  sweet, 

"We  do  love  each  other ;  don't  we  ? 

Mimic  angel !  golden  head  ! 
Words  are  all  too  cold  and  dead  ! 
Whither  has  the  word-god  fled  ? 
He  must  coin  me  something  new, 
Fitting  epithet  for  you  ; 
But  until  we  something  find 
Better  suited  to  our  mind, 


ON   RECEIVING   A  NOSEGAY.  139 

We  must  still  the  old  words  use, 
New  life  into  them  diffuse. 
Come  then,  cherub,  clasp  and  kiss  me  ; 
We  do  love  each  other  ;  don't  we  ? 


ON  RECEIYING  A  NOSEGAY  FROM 
MY  LADY-LOYE. 

A  NOSEGAY  of  sweets  from  my  lady  fair ; 
Soft  colors  and  bright,  and  odors  rare, 
With  forms  of  fairy  gayety  ; 
Such  is  my  lady's  gift  to  me. 

A  message  of  love  from  my  lady  dear ; 
Love  tender  and  strong  and  drawing  near, 
But  veiled  with  maiden  modesty ; 
Such  is  my  lady's  gift  to  me. 


140  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

A  garland  of  joy  from  my  lady  fair ; 
A  cluster  of  graces  blooming  there, 
The  crown  of  sweet  virginity ; 
Such  is  my  lady's  love  to  me. 


A  KIDDLE. 

ON  the  dashing  waterfall 

I  dance ; 
Through  a  crevice  in  the  wall 

I  glance. 

Mountain  peaks  of  sombre  shade 

I  gild ; 

And  the  valleys  by  my  aid 

Are  tilled. 


A   RIDDLE. 

In  among  the  meadow  grass 

I  creep ; 

Oft  within  a  looking  glass 

I  peep. 

Many  pictures,  rich  and  rare, 

And  quaint. 

Forms  of  beauty,  glowing  fair, 

I  paint. 

* 

Blooming  summer's  wreath  of  flowers 

I  weave  ; 

Ripened  fruits  for  harvest  hours 

I  leave. 

Joy  to  all  who  see  my  face, 

I  give ; 

Waking  life  in  every  place, 

Hive. 


142  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

All  my  bounties  I  impart 

With  zest ; 

But  to  shine  within  a  heart 

Is  best. 


BERTIE. 

O  BABY  BEKTIE,  summer-faced, 
Happy  the  household  you  have  graced, 
These  eighteen  months,  with  infant  wiles, 
With  tricksy  pranks  and  sunny  smiles. 

You  cunning  little  cherub  wight ! 
With  roguish  eyes  so  blue  and  bright, 
Always  looking  for  a  frolic, 
You  jolly,  bouncing  little  rollick  ! 


BERTIE. 

Is  papa  wearied  out  and  cross, 
Or  moody  at  some  business  loss  ? 
You  pull  his  whiskers,  pinch  his  nose, 
Till  every  gloomy  shadow  goes. 

Only  to  see  you  dance  a  jig, 
And  get  yourself  in  such  a  rig, 
Makes  quiet  mamma  laugh  and  shout, 
To  see  you  kick  yourself  about. 

You  sometimes  waken  nurse's  ire, 
By  pitching  slippers  in  the  fire  ; 
But  then  you  laugh  and  coax  and  kiss, 
Till  nurse  declares  there's  naught  amiss. 

Your  infant  wisdom,  joyous  laugh- 
But  words  will  fail  to  tell  the  half  ; 
You  are  a  cherub  angel  sent 
To  bless  our  household  with  content. 


144  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

When,  half  awake,  and  half  asleep, 
You  pray  the  Lord  your  soul  to  keep, 
And  sink  into  your  rosy  rest, 
You're  sweetest,  then,  and  loveliest. 

Our  hearts  look  up  with  every  morn, 
Since  you  unto  our  love  were  born  ; 
With  such  an  angel  for  a  guest, 
Our  home  is  surely  heaven-blest. 


WOO   THE  MUSE. 

Woo  the  Muse,  with  ardor  woo  ; 

Not  lightly  is  she  won  ; 
She  claims  allegiance  firm  and  true  ; 

All  others  must  you  shun. 


SOLILOQUY.  145 

Woo  the  Muse,  with  ardor  woo, 

Not  lightly  is  she  won ; 
Your  gifts  and  graces  all  are  due, 

She  claims  them,  every  one. 

Woo  the  Muse,  with  ardor  woo, 

Not  lightly  is  she  won  ; 
With  all  your  being  must  you  sue, 

As  pagan  to  the  Sun. 


SOLILOQUY. 

I  HEAR  the  falling  rain-drops 

Patter  on  the  window  pane  ; 
I  can  hear  them  striking  sharply, 

But  I  cannot  see  the  rain. 
10 


146  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Oh  !  I  long  fo  see  as  I  used  to  see 

The  silvery  summer  showers, 
Falling  in  welcome  blessing 

Upon  the  thirsty  flowers ; 
To  see  the  golden  sunbeams, 

Shining  through  the  diamond  drops, 
And  the  heavenly  bow  of  promise, 

Resting  on  the  mountain  tops. 


When  the  sun  rides  high  in  glory 

I  still  wander  on  in  gloom  ; 
And  the  sounds  of  earth  come  strangely 

To  me  in  my  living  tomb. 
At  the  day-dawn  drear  I  long  to  see 

The  earth,  all  fresh  and  fair, 
Looking,  in  blooming  beauty, 

Up  through  the  tranquil  air, 
To  greet  her  glorious  bridegroom, 

When  he  cometh  from  the  east, 


SOLILOQUY.  147 

A  giant  rejoicing  to  run  his  course, 
To  their  merry  marriage-feast. 

I  grope  my  way  in  darkness, 

To  the  fields  of  velvet  grass ; 
And  the  gentle,  perfumed  breezes 

Kiss  me  softly,  as  they  pass. 
I  hear  the  lambkins  bleating, 

As  they  skip  about  all  day ; 
I  hear  the  rippling  streamlet, 

Gliding  swiftly  on  its  way, 
And  I  know  the  wild  flowers  near  it 

Blossom  brightly,  fair  and  gay. 
All  the  wealth  of  Nature's  beauty 

Is  a  treasure  hid  from  me, 
And  I  cry  out  in  the  darkness, 

Blessed  are  the  eyes  which  see. 


148  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 


SONG.   OH!  LOOK  INTO  MY  HEAKT, 
LOYE. 

OH  !  look  into  my  heart,  love  ; 

Look  deep,  I  do  not  fear ; 
The  sacred  inmost  of  my  heart 

Is  pure  and  true  and  clear. 

Look  freely  ;  for  my  heart,  love, 

Has  only  room  for  thee  ; 
No  rival,  lurking,  hidden, 

Usurps  thy  right  in  me. 


PASSING  STRANGE.  149 

PASSING  STKANGE. 

OH  !  passing  strange  to  be  a  wife  ! 

In  bands  of  love,  in  bonds  for  life 
Oh  !  passing  sweet  to  be  a  wife  ! 

To  live  for  love,  to  love  for  life. 
Oh !  Honey  sweet  the  name  of  wife ! 

A  name  of  love,  of  love  for  life. 
To  live  in  love,  be  loved  through  life, 

Ah !  this  it  is  to  be  a  wife. 


WILLIE. 

THE  morn  was  bright, 

And  my  heart  was  light, 

When  Willie  embarked  on  the  treacherous  sea  ; 

The  sky  was  clear, 

And  I  felt  no  fear, 

For  soon  my  brave  Willie  would  come  back  to  me. 


150  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

In  a  rose-covered  bower, 

I  dreamed  of  the  hour 

When  Willie  returning  would  stand  by  my  side, 

In  his  beauty  and  strength, 

To  receive  at  length 

The  heart  and  the  hand  of  a  loving  bride. 

The  time  flew  by, 

And  I  learned  to  sigh 

At  the  boisterous  gale  and  the  dashing  wave ; 

With  my  heart  like  lead, 

Through  unspoken  dread 

That  my  Willie  would  lie  in  an  ocean  grave. 

Long  years  have  passed, 

And  I  know  at  last, 

That  Willie  can  never  return  to  my  love  ; 

And  I  know  as  well, 

That  we  both  shall  dwell 

In  undying  life  in  the  world  above. 


.      CUPID   AS  A  FORTUNE-TELLER.  151 

And  my  heart  is  blest, 

When  in  sleep  I  rest, 

With  dreams  of  a  blissful  life  on  high  ; 

And  I  wake  to  feel, 

When  in  prayer  I  kneel, 

That  for  sorrowing  hearts  it  is  joy  to  die. 


CUPID  AS  A  FORTUNE-TELLER 

PROFESSING,  in  the  book  of  fate  to  read, 

Love  turns  the  leaves  ; 
Thus  simple  mortals  slyly  to  mislead, 

The  rogue  deceives. 

Conning,  with  aspect  innocent  and  sage, 

The  lines,  he  seeks ; 
Feigning  it  ordered  on  the  trusted  page, 

False  counsel  speaks, 


152  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

While  foolish  mortals,  like  a  swarm  of  bees, 

Buzz  round  the  boy, 
Who,  like  the  Delphic  oracle  decrees, 

Their  ill  or  joy. 

With  honeyed  accents,  he  the  witless  fools 

Leads  far  astray ; 
Then,  while  their  wild,  delusive  ardor  cools, 

Mocks  their  dismay. 


SUMMER  HOURS. 

BORNE  on  the  odorous  breeze, 
And  garlanded  with  flowers, 

Come,  gayly  smiling,  to  our  love 
The  ecstatic  summer  hours. 


SUMMER  HOURS.  153 

We  welcome  them  with  song, 

With  joy  we  hail  them  ours ; 
And  revel  in  the  full  delight, 

The  entrancing  summer  hours. 

With  rippling  songs  of  birds, 

Warbled  in  viney  bowers, 
Echo  the  music  of  our  souls, 

Ye  witching  summer  hours. 

Exhale  your  fragrant  breath, 

Your  blooming  wealth  fling  wide, 

Swift-flying  daughters  of  the  fair 
And  glowing  summer-tide. 

Eleet  through  the  ambient  sweets, 

Bathe  in  ambrosial  dew, 
Then,  slumbering,  veiled  in  dreamy  night, 

Your  morning  pride  renew. 


154  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Short-lived  your  radiant  bloom, 
Soon  sped  your  transient  day  ! 

Could  we  but  stay  your  circling  flight, 
Bright  hours  that  waft  away. 


THE  FIKE-FLY. 

FLASHING,  flashing,  hither,  thither, 
Fire-fly,  wherefore,  whence  and  whither  ? 
Lightning  flashing,  beauty  sparkling, 
O'er  the  meadow,  in  the  darkling  ; 
Through  the  coppice,  in  the  hedges, 
O'er  the  misty,  goblin  sedges. 
What,  O  fire-fly,  wings  your  fleetness  ? 
Does  the  floweret's  honeyed  sweetness 
Tempt  you  in  her  cup  to  vanish  ? 
Gloomy  shadows  hence  you  banish, 
Flitting,  flitting  ;  Oh  !  to  hold  you, 
In  my  clasping  hand  to  fold  you  ! 


THE   FIRE-FLY.  155 

Ha  !  the  antic  star  I've  captured, 
Gem  which  held  my  gaze  enraptured, 
Gently  at  my  booty  peeping, 
Lo  !  a  dingy  insect  creeping  ; 
Not  more  dull  the  sober  quaker, 
Or  the  rigid,  sombre  shaker ; 
While  I  marvel,  while  I  ponder, 
Swift  as  winged  lightning  yonder, 
Forth  afar  the  starlet  flashes, 
O'er  the  marshy,  meadow  plashes. 

Ah  !  'tis  love  that  guides  your  wheelings, 
Round  about  the  lowland  shielings, 
Through  the  dusky  night  shades  fleeting ; 
There  with  glowing  love-mates  meeting, 
Sipping  dew-drops,  nipping  tansy, 
Settling  on  the  velvet  pansy, 
Fitful  fire-flies'  lovelights  shimmer, 
Till  the  dawn  from  Orient  glimmer. 


156  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


TO  EYA,  ON  HEARING  OF  HER 
BETROTHAL. 

WHEN  hearts  and  hands  are  plighted, 

And  life  is  glad  and  bright, 
Then  hearts  by  love  united 

Dwell  in  a  realm  of  light ; 

Life  may  have  care — it  may  have  sorrow, 

May  have  for  them  a  share  ; 
They  love  to-day — they'll  love  to-morrow ; 

Love  is  their  only  care. 

Love  is  not  in  our  power  ; 

Love  comes  to  us  from  God. 
He,  in  His  chosen  hour, 

May  use  it  as  a  rod. 


TO  EVA,   ON   HER   BETROTHAL,  157 

Let  all  who  love  in  gladness 
Give  God  the  praise  that's  due  ; 

Some  hearts  are  filled  with  sadness 
By  love  both  fond  and  true. 

But,  Eva,  hearts  united 

Have  only  room  for  joy ; 
And  love,  by  love  requited, 

Is  bliss  without  alloy. 

United  love  be  ever 

Your  Heaven-appointed  lot ; 
A  love  which  liveth  ever, 

Which  grows,  and  dieth  not. 


158  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

DANCING. 

NOT  a  poem  on  dancing  ! 
That  time-keeping  prancing, 
Marked  with  ogling  and  teazing, 
And  underhand  squeezing, 
With  much  billing  and  cooing, 
And  some  serious  wooing : 
Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Poet, 
'Tis  divine  ;  don't  you  know  it  ? 


ALONG  THE  KIVER. 

ALONG  the  river, 

The  quiet  river, 

There  floats  a  free,  wild  song ; 

The  mountain  echoes, 

The  phantom  echoes, 

Catch  the  song,  as  it  floats  along. 


ALOXG  THE  RIVER.  159 

From  whence  the  music, 

The  virgin  music, 

The  merry,  free,  wild  song  ? 

Where  lurk  the  echoes, 

The  mimic  echoes, 

For  the  song,  as  it  floats  along  ? 

From  glen  and  mountain, 

The  wooded  mountain, 

Blithe  soars  the  free,  wild  song ; 

The  river  breezes, 

The  light-winged  breezes, 

Chase  the  song  as  it  floats  along0 

A  dark-haired  maiden, 

A  bright-eyed  maiden, 

Is  singing  the  free  wild  song  ; 

The  clear  notes  rally 

The  herd  from  valley 

And  hill,  as  it  floats  along. 


160  ROSES  AND  MYRTLES. 


LIFE  AND  LOYE. 

An  !  Life  and  love  and  hope ! 
All !  Hope,  thou  life  of  love ! 
Ah !  Love,  thou  hope  of  life, 
Dearer  than  life  above. 

Oh !  Life  and  love  and  joy  ! 
Oh !  Love,  thou  joy  of  life ! 
Oh !  Life  !  thou  joy  of  love, 
With  myriad  blisses  rife ! 


MY  HEART  IS  ALL  ONE  DREAM  OF  LOVE.  161 


SONG.   MY  HEAKT  IS  ALL  ONE 
DKEAM  OF  LOVE. 

MY  heart  is  all  one  dream  of  love, 
A  dream  of  love  for  thee  ; 

Dispel  the  vision  of  my  heart, 
And  what  is  left  for  me  ? 

My  life  is  all  a  dream  of  love, 

Love  glorifying  thee ; 
Destroy  the  idol  of  my  dream, 

And  death  is  left  with  me. 
11 


162  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


THE  DESPAIRING. 

WILD,  in  the  gloaming, 
Aimlessly  roaming, 

Sunk  in  despair, 

Brokenly  drooping, 
Fell  demons  swooping, 

Round  on  her  glare. 

How  doth  she  languish, 
Wasted  with  anguish, 
Once  she  was  fair. 

Woefully  groaning, 
Dismally  moaning, 

Now  sinks  she  there, 


THE   DESPAIRING.  163 

With  voice  in  its  sadness 
Breathing  of  madness, 
No  tear  nor  prayer. 


Prone  in  her  sorrow, 
Whence  can  she  borrow 
Hope  for  the  morrow, 
Help  from  despair  ? 

Lo,  to  her  vision 
An  apparition, 
From  worlds  Elysian, 

Floats  through  the  air. 

Greatly  she  feareth, 
When  it  appeareth, 
But  a  voice  cheereth 
With  message  rare ; 


ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Here  to  thee,  failing, 
Sinking  and  wailing, 
Doubting  and  quailing, 
I  bring  repair, 


From  realms  of  gladness, 
Where  is  no  sadness 
Nor  dreary  madness, 
In  upper  air. 

Hence  in  thy  sorrow, 
Hope  thou  may'st  borrow, 
Life  for  the  morrow, 

Help  from  despair. 

Then  on  her  sadness, 
Moaning  and  madness, 
Steals  a  strange  gladness, 
Wondrous  and  rare. 


RESIGNATION.  165 

Now  her  brow  lightens, 
How  her  look  brightens, 
JSTow  she  is  fair. 


KESIGNATICXNT. 

WHEN  sudden,  deadly  blight 
Was  sent  from  God, 

And  o'er  my  heart's  delight 
Was  laid  the  sod, 

Then  with  a  fearful  might 
I  felt  the  rod. 

When  o'er  my  heart's  delight 

Was  laid  the  sod, 
And  all  that  made  life  bright 

Was  claimed  by  God, 
Grace  taught  my  heart  aright 

To  kiss  the  rod. 


166  ROSES  AND  MYRTLES. 

Now  o'er  my  heart's  delight 
Grows  green  the  sod  ; 

When,  through  life's  dreary  night 
My  path  I've  trod, 

I'll  find  my  heart's  delight 
In  life  with  God. 


CEADLE  SONG. 

SLEEP,  baby,  sleep ; 

Rocked  in  mother's  arms, 
My  own  baby,  sleep ; 

Mother's  arms  are  strong. 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Sleep,  sleep. 


CRADLE   SONG.  167 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Mother  is  wide  awake, 
My  own  baby,  sleep ; 

Mother's  heart  keeps  guard. 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Sleep,  sleep. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Cradled  soft  and  warm, 
My  own  baby,  sleep ; 

Pillowed  on  my  heart, 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Sleep,  sleep. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Father's  darling  pride, 
My  own  baby,  sleep ; 

Cradled  by  my  side, 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Sleep,  sleep. 


168  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Father's  pretty  boy, 
My  own  baby,  sleep ; 

Mother's  darling  joy, 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ; 

Sleep,  sleep. 


MY  CHILDREN. 

READING   FROM   ONE   BOOK. 

HEADING  from  one  book, 
How  beautiful  they  look, 
Robbie  and  little  Jess  ; 
Black  eyes  and  raven  hair, 
Blue  eyes  and  sunny  tress ; 
Whose  children  are  so  fair  \ 


THE  ROSE.  169 

Kobin  is  fond  of  books 

And  strong  and  brave  and  true  ; 
But,  sure,  an  infant  angel  looks 

From  Jessie's  eyes  of  blue. 


THE  EOSE. 

I  AM  a  rose  in  beauty  beaming ; 
Eden  sweets  in  my  bosom  teeming, 
"While  maiden  blushes,  warm  and  deep, 
My  tender  bloom  in  crimson  steep. 

Oh  !  I  am  love's  true  passion-flower, 

The  breath  of  the  Indies  my  bridal  dower ; 

No  stately  beauty,  cold  as  bright ; 

In  expending  my  sweetness  I  take  delight. 


170  HOSES  AND   MYKTLES. 

I  bathe  in  the  dew  of  life's  early  morn, 
Until  in  the  glory  of  love  new-born. 
My  bosom  kindles  in  flames  of  bliss 
Beneath  my  bridegroom's  burning  kiss. 

But  love  so  ardent  consumes  my  life  ; 
A  little  time  shall  I  bloom  a  wife, 
Then  resign  my  beauty  and  sweet  perfume, 
To  the  mouldering  dust  of  the  silent  tomb. 

But  welcome  the  tomb  in  that  early  hour, 
While  still  my  beloved  delights  in  my  bower ; 
Far  better  the  silence  of  death's  cold  night, 
Than  a  lover  grown  weary  of  love's  delight. 


ART  THOU  HAPPY,  LACKING  ME? 


AET  THOU  HAPPY,  LACKING  ME? 

ART  thou  happy,  lacking  me  ? 
Art  thou  happy  ?     Can  it  be, 
Thou  art  happy,  lacking  me  ? 

Thou  art  happy  without  me ; 
Thou  art  happy ;  then  to  be 
Sure  thou  art,  suffices  me. 

But  the  marvel  unto  me 
Is  that  thou  canst  happy  be, 
Truly  happy,  lacking  me. 

For  the  truth  is  known  to  me, 
I  am  nothing  without  thee  ; 
Thou  art  every  thing  to  me. 


172  KOSES  AND  MYRTLES. 

But  if  happy  thou  canst  be, 
Truly  happy,  without  me, 
Then  thy  joy  my  bliss  shall  be. 

But  if,  hidden  in  thy  heart, 
Loneliness  and  pain  have  part, 
Turn  to  me,  thou  lonely  heart. 

If,  contending  in  thy  life, 
Longings  vague  hold  secret  strife, 
Blend  with  mine  thy  troubled  life. 

So  shall  loneliness  and  strife 
Vanish  from  our  perfect  life ; 
Stilled  the  longings,  ceased  the  strife, 


PHEBE.  173 


PHEBE. 

WHEREFORE  does  Phehe  never  bring 

Her  sewing  or  her  book 
And  at  the  window  sit,  nor  sing, 

Nor  up  the  highway  look  ? 

Because,  so  often,  every  day, 
Her  neighbor,  Willie  Brown, 

Is  wont  to  pass  along  that  way, 
In  going  to  the  town. 

This  Willie  once  loved  Phebe  well, 
But  through  a  sad  mistake, 

She  lost  his  love ;  'tis  sad  to  tell, 
Her  heart  did  well-nigh  break. 


174  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Yet  while  she  drank  the  bitter  cup, 
She  could  but  feel  with  shame, 

Willie  did  well  to  give  me  up, 
For  I  was  much  to  blame. 


Phebe  loved  Will  with  all  her  heart, 
And  thought  his  love  to  win ; 

She  now  must  learn  another  part ; 
To  love  him  would  be  sin. 

For  Willie  has  been  wedded  long, 

Forgetful  of  the  past ; 
And  Phebe's  cup  of  bitterness 

Is  brimming  full  at  last. 

Poor  Phebe  has  a  brave,  true  heart, 
A  pure,  good  woman's  will ; 

Right  nobly  she  will  do  her  part, 
And  bid  her  love  be  still. 


PHEBE.  175 

She  wishes  love  without  alloy, 

To  Willie  and  his  wife ; 
She  would  not  take  a  single  joy, 

Or  blessing  from  their  life. 

But  when  his  well-known  voice  she  hears, 

Or  him  afar  discerns, 
Her  spirit  sinks,  oppressed  with  fears, 

Her  heart  within  her  burns. 

The  old  love  glows  within  her  breast, 

The  old  love  dims  her  eyes  ; 
And  fills  her  with  a  sad  unrest, 

And  wakens  frequent  sighs. 

Therefore  does  Phebe  never  bring 

Her  sewing  or  her  book 
And  at  the  window  sit,  nor  sing, 

Nor  up  the  highway  look. 


176  ROSES  AND   MYKTLES. 


PKESCKIPTION. 

"  SUCH  strange,  mysterious,  saddening  of  soul," 
My  best  advice,  dear  Madam,  take  a  stroll 
Down  yon  gay  avenue,  'twill  free  your  mind 
From  all  mysterious  dread  of  human  kind. 


LINES  IN  AN   ALBUM. 

YERSES  to  Ella — thus  my  Muse  I  prayed — 
Worthy  of  Ella,  lift  thy  pinions  high : 

But  to  my  grief  the  coy  and  modest  maid 
Quailed  at  the  lofty  flight  and  would  not  try. 


LILIES  OF  THE   VALLEY.  177 


LILIES  OF  THE  VALLEY. 

OH  !  Lay  me  down  upon  a  lily  bed. 
The  boundless  heaven  arching  overhead ; 
There  let  me  lie  and  dream  my  life  away, 
Nor  see  the  night-fall  darken  this  fair  day. 

While  sweetest  perfumes  captivate  the  sense, 
While  genial  sunbeams  vital  warmth  dispense, 
Let  soothing  languor  on  my  being  steal, 
And  in  the  sleep  of  death  mine  eyelids  seal. 

My  life  is  young  and  happy  and  serene ; 
Bowed  down  by  grief  and  anguish  I  have  seen 
The  good  and  gentle,  and  I  fain  would  flee 

Away,  before  such  grief  o'ershadow  me. 
12 


178  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Then  lay  me  down  with  lilies,  in  their  bed, 
With  lofty  azure  curtain  overhead  ; 
There  let  me  lie  and  dream  my  life  away ; 
Sorrow  may  darken  round  the  closing  day. 


BABY. 

CALMLY,  sweetly  sleeping, 
Baby,  whom  we  love  ; 

Gentle  angels  keeping 
AVatch  o'er  him  above. 

Stilly,  coldly  sleeping, 
Heedless  of  our  love ; 

Angels,  in  their  keeping 
Holding  him  above. 


AGUE'S  PRAYER.  179 

No,  he  is  not  sleeping 

Angel  of  our  love ; 
Baby  now  is  keeping 

Watch  for  us  above. 


AGUE'S  PRAYER. 

NEITHER    POVERTY    NOR   RICHES. 

THAT  man  alone  is  truly  good  and  wise, 
And  happy  in  this  world,  that  man  alone, 
Who  the  desire  of  Agur  makes  his  own ; 
Who  to  the  God  of  Israel  lifts  his  eyes, 
And  from  his  inmost  soul  devoutly  cries ; 
Two  things  have  I  required,  O  Lord  ;  deny 
Them  not  to  me,  I  pray,  before  I  die  ; 


180  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Remove  far  from  me  vanity  and  lies, 
O  give  me  neither  poverty  nor  wealth, 
Lest,  in  my  riches,  I  my  God  despise, 
The  source  whence  all  my  benefits  arise, 
Or,  in  my  hungry  need,  I  take  by  stealth, 
That  which  is  not  mine  own,  or  in  my  pain, 
I  sin,  and  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain. 

He  whose  desires  are  bounded  by  this  prayer, 
May  tread  life's  thorny  paths  devoid  of  care ; 
Cull  flowers  and  fruits  amid  the  thorns  and  briers, 
And  taste  fulfillment  of  his  fond  desires  ; 
May  find  his  wants  all  tenderly  supplied, 
And  every  eager  craving  satisfied. 


DOOM.  181 


DOOM. 

FAIR  heaven,   bright   beaming  over  slumbering 

meads, 

Star-spangled,  star-illumined,  radiant  space, 
Whose  glory  to  heaven's  full  effulgence  leads ! 
Stars  light   earth's    heaven-claimed    spirits   to 
heaven's  grace. 

With  contrariety  of  woeful  fate. 

Earth  holds  her  tenants  from  the  happy  flight ; 
With  beckoning  love  the  pitying  angels  wait, 

While  spirits  earth-bound  wrestle  with  her 
might. 

While  light  celestial  beams  from  blissful  skies, 
Blind  spirits,  stumbling,  fall  where  wiles  sur 
round  ; 


182  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

No  radiance  heavenly  greets  their  clouded  eyes ; 
Strayed     spirits,    wandering    wild,    in     chaos 
drowned. 


While  brooding  peace,  dove-like,  outspreads  her 

wings, 

Sad  spirits,  wailing,  keep  a  vigil  dread  ; 
No  soothing  balm  their  anguish  respite  brings ; 
Crushed    spirits,    mourning    over  fond    hopes 
dead. 


While  steadfast  souls  breast,  tranquil,  each  rough 

wave, 
Tossed   spirits,  helpless,  sink   in  doubt's   foul 

tide; 
No   anchor   serves    their   hopes   from   wreck   to 

save; 

Lost   spirits,  hopeless,  whelmed,  while   fiends 
deride. 


LINES  TO  ,  WITH  A  ROSE.        183 

Kind  heavens,  wail  a  dirge,  let  angels  weep 
Frail  spirits,  tempted  by  sin's  dizzying  whirl ; 

Absorbed,  destroyed,  drawn  to  the  lowest  deep ; 
Dead  spirits,  buried  in  the  Stygian  swirl. 


LINES  TO   ,  WITH  A  KOSE. 

TAKE  not,  for  emblem  of  my  love  to  thee, 

The  rose,  though  glowing,  sweet  and  fair  to  see ; 

Eoses,  the  fairest,  fade  and  fall  away, 

But  love,  true  love,  glows  pure  and  sweet  for  aye. 


184:  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


TEIAL.     A  VISION. 

WITH  peaceful  thoughts,  upon  my  bed 
I  laid,  at  night,  my  weary  head ; 
And  ere  in  sleep  my  eyelids  closed, 
My  spirit  thus  on  God  reposed. 

Oh  !  blessed,  blessed,  thus  to  lie. 
Content  to  live,  content  to  die  ; 
Confiding  in  my  Father's  love, 
And  waiting  for  the  world  above. 

Come  health,  come  sickness,  weal  or  woe, 
Come  high  estate,  or  fortune  low, 
Come  life  or  death,  God  knoweth  best, 
In  my  Father's  keeping  I  safely  rest. 


TRIAL.      A   VISION.  185 

Then  peacefully  I  fell  asleep, 
In  dreamless  slumber,  sound  and  deep, 
Till  visions  dire,  before  my  eyes, 
Transfixed  me  with  a  wild  surprise. 

Methought  I  stood  at  the  gate  of  Hell ; 
That  moment's  anguish  no  words  can  tell ; 
I  cried,  "  My  Father,  thy  will  be  done ; 
Yet  my  soul  had  trusted  in  Christ  thy  Son ; 

Salvation  from  the  doom  of  sin, 
Through  Jesus'  blood  I  had  hoped  to  win ; 
But  I  own  the  justice  of  thy  decree, 
Hell  has  been  well  deserved  by  me." 

That  awful  dream  had  flitted  by ; 

With  a  grateful  soul,  and  a  thankful  sigh, 

I  cried  :  "  My  Father,  thy  will  be  done  ; 

Yet  I  hope  for  pardon  through  Christ  thy  Son." 


186  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Then  slowly  over  my  spirit  stole 
The  blissful  peace  of  a  ransomed  soul'; 
While  one,  in  tones  of  boundless  love, 
Addressed  me  from  the  realms  above. 

"  Thus  have  I  proved  thy  love,  my  child  ; 
Have  proved  it  pure  and  undefiled  ; 
And  thus  thy  faith  have  I  sorely  tried, 
And  found  it  strong  and  purified. 

Thy  trembling  soul  would'st  thou  offer  up, 
Would'st  drain  to  the  dregs  the  bitter  cup, 
Would'st  go  away  'mid  the  lost  to  dwell, 
And  meekly  endure  the  pains  of  hell. 

God's  peace  be  upon  thee,  faithful  one, 
The  peace  of  the  Father,  the  grace  of  the  Son. 
And  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  remain  upon  thee, 
Henceforth  and  forever,  eternally." 


MEDITATION.  187 


MEDITATION. 

THE  Moon,  serenely  Queen,  from  her  full  height, 
Bathing  all  nature  in  her  silvery  light, 
Seemeth  to  gladden  at  the  pleasant  view, 
While  from  the  thirsty  flowers,  refreshing  dew 
Calls  forth  a  balmy  breath  of  perfumed  air, 
Night's  fragrant  offering  to  her  queen  so  fair. 

So  the  reviving  dew  of  Heavenly  grace, 
Falling  in  blessing  on  our  dying  race, 
Quickens  each  spirit  to  a  life  divine, 
While  o'er  our  souls  the  Light  of  Heaven  doth 

shine, 

And  the  sweet  odors  of  our  prayers  which  rise 
Are  offered  with  much  incense  in  the  skies. 


188  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 


LONGING. 

Is  there,  beyond  this  world  of  toil  and  sorrow, 
A  glorious  awaking,  bright  tomorrow  ? 

Is  there  a  life  where  sin  has  lost  its  power ; 
Where  death,  despoiled,  resigns  his  evil  dower  ? 

Is  there  a  home,  where  partings  never  sadden, 
Love  looks  grow  cold,  nor  dark  suspicions  madden  ? 

Is  there  a  love  immortal  as  the  soul, 
Which  deepens  while  eternal  ages  roll  ? 

O  Love  divine  !     O  Life  without  a  tear ! 
What  shackles  vile  retain  my  spirit  here  ? 

Oh  !  seek,  my  soul,  that  Kest,  and  thither  fly ; 
Oh  !  take,  my  spirit,  'wings  and  reach  the  sky. 


HYMN.      LIFT   UP   MY   EYES.  189 


HYMN.      LIFT  UP  MY  EYES. 

LIFT  up  my  eyes,  dear  Lord, 

Up  to  thy  cross  ! 
Let  me  no  more  behold 

Earth  and  its  dross. 

Far,  far  above  thy  cross 

Lift  up  mine  eyes, 
Up  to  thy  glory,  Lord, 

In  Paradise. 

Up  to  thy  worship,  Lord, 
Lead  thou  my  heart, 

That  I  in  thy  dear  love 
May  have  a  part. 


190  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Take  thou  mj  spirit,  Lord, 

Into  thy  rest ; 
That  I  may  be  with  thee, 

There  fully  blest. 


GOD  OUK  JUDGE. 

A  RIGHTEOUS  Judge  have  we, 

A  patient  God,  and  strong ; 
Oh  !  whither  shall  we  flee, 

Most  miserable  throng, 
Who  tread  the  downward  path, 

The  broad  and  easy  way, 
The  fierceness  of  His  wrath 

Provoking,  day  by  day. 


GOD   OUR  JUDGE.  191 

Before  His  awful  throne 

An  advocate  must  stand, 
"Who  may  for  sin  atone, 

And  save  our  guilty  band. 
The  ransom  has  been  paid 

For  this  our  fallen  race ; 
Atonement  has  been  made, 

The  work  of  heavenly  grace. 

The  Son  of  God  was  slain  ; 

Slain  on  the  cruel  tree  ; 
And  through  His  death  we  gain 

A  pardon  full  and  free. 
If  pardon  we  implore, 

In  penitence  and  prayer, 
Our  Judge  will  grant  us  more 

Than  we  to  ask  can  dare. 

Yet  we  a  choice  must  make, 
The  strait  and  narrow  way 


192  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Must  choose  ;  a  cross  must  take, 
And  hourly  watch  and  pray. 

In  His  most  gracious  plan, 
God  gives  to  all  a  choice  ; 

To  every  soul  of  man 

He  sends  a  warning  voice. 

O  harken  to  the  voice, 

The  voice  of  heavenly  love  ; 
To-day  make  thou  thy  choice, 

Choose  thou  the  God  above. 
The  Spirit  pleads  with  thee, 

In  whispers  soft  and  low  ; 
O  yield  unto  His  plea, 

Nor  dare  to  answer  no. 


WISHING.  193 


WISHING. 

I  WISH,  and  yet  I  dare  not  wish 
For  something  that  might  be  ; 

I  wish,  but  all  in  vain  my  wish, 
It  will  not  come  to  me. 

I  wish,  but  always  keep  my  wish 
Deep  buried  in  my  heart ; 

The  hidden  secret  of  that  wish 
I  will  to  none  impart. 

I  wish,  O  that  I  could  not  wish  ! 

For  wishing  leaves  a  sting  ; 
Oh !  who  would  think  a  simple  wish 

A  heart  with  grief  could  wring '? 
13 


194  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

I  wish — I  must  not,  will  not  wish  ; 

God's  child,  there  is  no  need 
That  I  should  murmur  in  a  wish, 

At  what  his  love  decreed. 

I  wish — I  will  not,  do  not  wish  ; 

I  yield  me  to  His  care  ; 
Hereafter  let  my  every  wish 

Be  changed  into  a  prayer. 


HYMN.      ONLY  TO  PRAY, 

ONLY  to  pray ! 

Now  to-day, 
And  the  voice  of  my  cry, 

Wafted  high, 
Shall  attain  to  an  ear, 

That  will  hear. 


HYMN.      ONLY  TO  PRAY.  195 

Only  to  pray ! 

No  delay, 
'Not  a  moment  to  wait, 

No  debate 
In  the  answer  of  love, 

From  above. 

Only  to  pray ! 

And  my  way 
Shall  be  clear  as  the  sun  : 

One  may  run 
In  the  path  that  shall  be 

Marked  for  me. 

Only  to  pray ! 

Let  me  pray ; 
And  relieved  of  my  care, 

By  my  prayer, 
I  may  lift  up  my  voice, 

And  rejoice. 


196  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Rejoice,  O  heart,  once  buried  in  despair ! 
Rejoice,  glad  heart,  now  free  from  all  thy  care  ! 
Rejoice,  my  heart !      The  Lord  hath  heard  thy 
prayer. 

Sing  praise,  my  heart !      Sing  praise,  lift  up  thy 

voice  ! 

Sing  praise,  glad  heart !     Sing  praises  and  rejoice ! 
Sing  praise,  my  heart !     The  Lord  hath  heard  thy 

voice. 


SUPPLICATION. 

HEAE  me,  O  God,  in  this  my  trial  hour ! 

Hear  me  and  help'. 

See  me,  thy  child,  thy  child  in  Christening  dower, 
Facing  the  hosts  of  sin  which  round  me  lower, 
Bending  before  the  evil  tempter's  power, 

Hear  me,  and  help ! 


SUPPLICATION.  197 

Hear  me,  O  God,  in  this  my  hour  of  night ! 

Hear  me  and  guide 
My  soul  in  deadly  fight, 
Waging  for  truth  and  light ; 
Thy  banner  full  in  sight, 

Hear  me  and  guide. 

Hear  me,  O  God,  in  this  my  hour  of  woe  ! 

Hear  me  and  heed ! 
See  how  my  soul  lies  low, 
Crushed  by  her  cruel  foe, 
Mark  thou  each  bitter  throe, 

Hear  me  and  heed  ! 

Hear  me,  O  God,  in  this  my  hour  of  need  ! 

Hear  me  and  save ! 
See  thou  my  poor  heart  bleed, 
Pierced  by  the  vengeful  deed 
Of  envious  serpent's  seed  ; 

Hear  me  and  save  ! 


198  ROSES  AND   MYRTLES. 

Hear  me,  O  God,  in  this  my  hour  of  grace  ! 

Hear  me  and  bless  ! 
Let  love  and  zeal  keep  pace, 
Till  in  thy  holy  place, 
I  see  thee  face  to  face ; 

Hear  me  and  bless  ! 


HYMK 

OH  !  hasten  to  the  temple, 
Thither  go  up  to  pray ; 

Our  God  meets  with  His  people, 
Upon  His  holy  day. 

Our  Jesus  in  the  temple, 

Upon  His  holy  day, 
Instructs  all  waiting  Christians 

To  love  and  praise  and  pray. 


HYMN.  199 

Then  hasten  to  the  temple, 

Upon  God's  holy  day ; 
While  health  and  strength  are  given. 

Be  never  found  away. 


HYMN. 

JESUS,  our  risen  Savior, 

Now  seated  on  thy  throne, 
Thy  sacrifice  completed, 

Thou  dost  for  sin  atone. 
We  cannot,  oh  !  we  cannot 

Appeal  to  Thee  in  vain  ; 
Thy  death  and  passion  pleading 

Our  pardon  we  obtain. 


200  ROSES   AND   MYRTLES. 

Though  red  your  sips  like  scarlet, 

Or  deepest  crimson  dje  ; 
Though,  open  unto  judgment, 

Your  wickednesses  cry ; 
They  shall  be  like  the  snow-drift, 

New  fallen,  pure  and  bright, 
Or  like  the  finest  fleeces, 

Immaculately  white. 

Thus  saith  a  voice  from  Heaven  ; 

Jesus,  Redeemer,  King ! 
From  thee,  O  dear,  dear  Savior, 

Angels  the  message  bring. 
Men  know  not,  oh !  they  know  not, 

Ere  they  its  grace  have  tried, 
What  crimson  tide  of  blessing 

Flows  freely  from  thy  side. 


TO 201 


TO 


THY  mother's  love  goes  with  thee, 

Across  the  mighty  sea  ; 
Heaven  send  that  thou  may'st  safely  reach 

The  port  where  thou  would'st  be. 

Thy  mother's  thoughts  are  with  thee, 

While  thou  art  on  the  sea  ; 
Her  cheeks  are  pale  with  anxious  fears 

Lest  harm  may  come  to  thee. 

And  oh  !  when  thou  art  landed  safe, 

Beyond  the  stormy  sea, 
Thy  mother's  faithful  heart  will  still 

Present  to  Heaven  the  plea, 


202  ROSES  AND  MYRTLES. 

That  ever  in  that  foreign  land, 
Temptation  thou  may'st  flee  ; 

That  thou,  young  soldier  of  the  cross, 
Loyal  to  Christ  may'st  be ; 

That  thou  wilt  ever  choose  the  right, 
She  fondly  trusts  in  thee  ; 

The  knowledge  of  her  confidence 
Thy  monitor  will  be. 


TO   SOME   FKIEKDS  WHO   REQUESTED 
MY  LIKENESS. 

A  WISH  expressed  by  loved  ones  to  deny, 
Must  ever  grieve  the  heart  and  wake  a  sigh  ; 
Beloved  friends,  my  likeness  you  require, 
And  1  have  sought  to  give  what  yon  desire ; 


TO   SOME  FRIENDS.  203 

I  pray  you,  take  instead  thereof  my  heart. 

The  Sun  himself  has  not  the  magic  art 

My  pictured  image  on  the  card  to  paint ; 

The  work  to  do  he  lately  made  a  feint, 

And  where  my  features  should  have  found  a  place, 

He  showed,  in  truth,  engraved  a  form  and  face, 

Kigid,  expressionless,  with  soulless  gaze  ; 

Clearly  each  line  the  shabby  trick  displays. 

Since  vainly  thus  to  please  you  I  essay, 

Here  will  I  give  you,  in  another  way, 

In  words,  wherein  are  mirrored  mind  and  thought, 

The  token  of  affection  which  you  sought. 


THE   END. 


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